


Eyes On Me

by clockworkswan



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Ballroom Dancing, Communication, Dancing Lessons, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Other, Partnership, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, competition tension, enjoy your cavities, it's important to me to tag that lmao, salsa dancing later you guys, there's many a little later? but barely any, this is not a serious fic but there are gays dancing and what more do you want really?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-10-14 15:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 102,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkswan/pseuds/clockworkswan
Summary: When a new same-sex dancing rule gets people talking, Magnus Bane decides to take the jump from Latin to Ballroom in order to prove that change is a good thing. Looking for a new challenge, he’s determined to win the Ballroom Championships and be crowned victorious in the first same-sex partnership.Now all he needs are the right shoes, the right music, and the right partner.~Alec is well on his way to securing another victory for his parents’ prestigious dance school, yet a new face, and surprising feelings, might change that. When Magnus turns up, he sweeps more than dancing traditions off their feet.As the competition rounds heat up, and dreams hang in the balance, can the pair prove themselves to a worldwide audience of fellow dreamers, critics and cynics?





	1. Ten Minutes Ago, I Met You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, it's me, your good ol' friend who cannot stop writing fanfiction.  
> This time, I humbly bring you a dance trope fic with fluff and (terrible) humour. This is what happens when you're obsessed with dance films, miss ballroom dancing, and daydream about malec doing said ballroom dancing in your spare time.  
> Happy reading! :)  
> Chapter title is from the grossly romantic Cinderella song.  
> I'm on twitter @clockworkswan96, and tumblr, 'clockworkswans' if you want to come and say hi :) You can tag 'EOM' on twitter if you're live-tweeting, i think that's a thing now, as the kids call it.  
> If anyone's interested in the fic breakdown, see the end notes :)  
> if you want visuals for the samba, it's here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CABJfSW6MXE

_International Latin Championships - 2016_

“Are you serious? Changing the routine with _five_ minutes to go?”

Camille gives him a sharp look. “Don’t be melodramatic,” she defends, sighing. “It’s just a small step. You can do a _bontra bota fogo_ in your sleep, Magnus," she reminds him.

It doesn't comfort Magnus in the slightest.

He narrows his eyes. “Which is why I’d like to keep it _in_ the routine," he says. Hesitating as one of the nearby judges catches his eye, Magnus plasters on a fake smile that would put any Oscar nominee to shame. When the guy moves out of his range, Magnus swallows back another retort. He faces Camille, who is staring out at the dancefloor they'll soon be heading onto. 

Magnus reaches out, touching Camille’s arm gently. The blood-red choker around her throat glistens like ice, and once again, he hesitates. 

“Camille, come on," he says, softer this time. "We’ve always started the routine with one. It’s our thing,” he tries to say it jokingly, but the desperate edge slips out. After all, it _is_ their thing. No other couple starts facing each other, and it’s something he’s always liked to think is special. Something that connects them right from the start of the dance.

“Darling, really,” Camille says, “why are you still arguing? You know there’s a reason why I make the decisions, and you…dazzle.”

On anyone else’s lips, it would sound like a compliment. Magnus doesn’t miss her sly smirk, or the slightly raised eyebrow, that quirks as she slides her eyes up and down Magnus’ attire. Yes, he’s a little…sparkly, but it doesn’t take away the fact that he’s an incredible dancer with rock-hard abs and an ass to match. Camille's jibes often don't sting, but this one does. 

“You’ve always admired my dramatics,” Magnus mutters, coming closer again. He's beginning to worry now. “What’s changed, hm?” He slips an arm around her waist, and this time, Camille lets herself fall into his embrace. She smiles, and it’s more genuine. The tightness in his throat eases up. 

“Nothing, dearest,” Camille says, her voice as enticing as always. She uses her words like weapons sometimes, but Magnus adores her; sharpness and all. They’ll be partners forever, and it doesn’t faze him one bit when Camille cocks her head again.

“So, we’ll start without the step?”

She holds his gaze, standing her ground. 

After a few more moments, Magnus, as always, surrenders. "Of course," he agrees, not caring too much. Not really. 

It's a lie that keeps his spirits up in the remaining minutes of anticipation. After all, it’s not like they won’t have other dances and routines to work it into.

As the current couple take their bow and curtsy, Magnus gives himself a quick once-over, admiring the deep red of his half-open shirt, the snug-fitting black pants, and the gorgeous, custom shoes of black and red. The velvet laces match the bracelet cuffs, and Camille's choker, coordinating the outfits to perfection. 

He's still admiring his attire when the spotlight slowly makes its way over to them.

Camille is already holding out a hand, ready and waiting, with her gaze narrowing in on the judges' table. 

 _Eyes on the prize,_ Magnus thinks proudly. _That's my girl._

Ignoring the small pocket of uncertainty from the routine change, Magnus pushes down the nerves and relishes in everything that comes next. As they prepare to make their way to the floor, the overhead voice announcing their arrival onto the polished, shiny stage. Magnus offers a hand, and Camille slips hers into it, her silk, gloved fingers warm and ready.

“Good luck, my dear,” Magnus says, smiling.

She turns away, focusing on the floor awaiting them. “We don’t need luck,” she says, lowly. “We always win.”

He doesn’t have time to frown, or eye roll at her own dramatics, because then they’re being ushered onto the dancefloor.

The overhead voice booms out their arrival. “And next up, are couple number 24, Camille Belcourt and Magnus Bane. Will they continue their winning streak this year? Today’s samba performance will decide if they take first, second or third place. Throughout the stages, this year, they’ve scored 98, consistently. Can they continue this streak and take the crown for a fourth time in a row? We’ll see. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for couple number 24!”

Magnus makes sure to spin Camille out nicely, so that they’re covering at least half the floor, and most of the audience’s attention. They bow and curtsy, elegant and rehearsed to perfection, before coming to stand together, near the centre of the empty floor.

The lights dim. The excited whispers simmer down to an almost silence. Magnus’ heartbeat is already racing, and he’s not danced a single, damn step yet, but Magnus swears that this is the greatest feeling. Facing away from Camille - yep, he definitely doesn't like this new arrangement - their necks stretched, and chins lifted, is an unstoppable feeling of raw energy. It stirs in sparks, ready to be sliced and moulded into a dance of quick steps, grins and flashy spins.

There’s something about the samba that resonates in Magnus’ blood. It’s always like this, the Latin dance competitions. His minutes of dancing forms a pocket of space where his entire body is lit up.

As the music starts, a quiet, but determined drum beat ascending in volume, Magnus starts to let his body unwind. He lets the tension become a shape he can turn into his own desired forms. It’s never a good idea to surrender to a dance. There has to be tension. There has to be focus. Finding the balance between that craftsmanship and the joy, and the energy, is what makes a dancer, a dancer.

As soon as Magnus takes the first step, Camille lifting an arm, and stepping away from his embrace, the world is theirs. They take control, take the audience with them on the two minute journey. Their _whisks_ are smooth, their connection is – as many years of dancing has led to – strong and trusting. The damn _reverse turn_ they spent an entire week mastering gets the crowd roaring.

Camille’s eagerness is, however, new. She’s dancing with her usual cool confidence, but she’s never lit up like this before. Magnus is pleased, albeit taken aback. What makes this final different to the others? Sure, a four-year win streak is incredible, but why is she wearing a smile fit for a queen?

They don’t just make it through the routine, they own it. They dance the steps with a comfortable tension born from a trusting partnership. Because Magnus trusts her, completely. Doesn’t he?

It’s all too easy to lose himself in the dance’s rhythm, in the drum beats and cheerful vocals. The audience is a good one, responsive and loud, but not distressingly so. Nothing is worse than having an audience that drowns out the music.

They nail their lifts and sneak in a few audience-winning moves - including Magnus' favourite, the individual hip rotations. It's always fun to surprise the audience, hold someone's gaze and do a full, tormentingly slow hip rotation. No poor guy or girl has ever passed out before, but there's always a first time for everything. He chooses a pretty girl with a blonde braid and stern eyes. She looks like she could use the wake-up. So he gives her a damn good one, eye contact, devastating grin and all, before rejoining Camille for their final section. 

The dance ends, and Magnus dips Camille, looking down and getting a lovely eyeful of her curves. He pulls her up with a smile, before once again spinning her out to take their bows. The cheers are more than music to their ears, it's _magic_.  It's Magnus knowing, with full certainty, that he's good enough. It's worth the blood, sweat, tears and glitter that have gone into the preparations.

Usually, they await their final marks with their School. The crew, and fellow dancers, from _Pandemonium_ are on their feet, supporting and cheerful. But Camille doesn't head over to them. She tugs Magnus away, drawing them closer to where the other Schools are. By this point, the cameras are trained on them, so Magnus just goes with it. He waits, anxious and excited, and stares up at the huge scoreboard.

From the corner of his eye, Magnus notices a tall man dressed in a sharp suit. Standing with one of the rival companies, he's eyeing up Camille with an oddly satisfied look, like she's proven something to him. 

Thunderous applause deafens him. He turns, glancing up at the board, as a victorious '99' flashes across the screen.

 _One mark off,_ he thinks, grinning. _Something to improve on next year._

Having said that, no one ever, in the history of _Dancesport_ competitions, has won with a perfect '100'.

"We make an exquisite pair, don't we- Camille?"

His words trail off as he sees Camille walking off, barely giving the scoreboard another smile. Out of interest, and confusion, he follows on, as she comes to stand by the watching man from earlier.

He catches what they're saying, and then really wishes that he'd stayed ignorant. 

“Have you reached a verdict then, hm?” Camille is asking, her voice doing that low drawl when she really wants her way. 

The guy, presumably a teacher, is wearing the adorned crest of _Dumort Academy_ on his jacket. They're one of the most prestigious Latin-dancing schools in the world. Why is Camille speaking with one of their teachers? Even stranger than that, why did it seem like they'd already met?

“We have.” The man holds out a hand, grinning. “Welcome to the _Dumort Academy,_ Ms. Belcourt.”

They both still haven't noticed his arrival, but that all changes when Magnus can’t conceal the gasp that escapes his lips.

“What the hell?" he says, voice hoarse. "You're leaving _Pandemonium_?"

Camille spins around. For a moment, she looks unsure, though she doesn't once look guilty. And then those lips tug into a slow smile, and she keeps her head lifted high.

“This, dear, is Alexei de Quincey," Camille actually introduces them with a smile, as though Magnus is supposed to gush and cheer. "He’s on the administrations board for the Academy-“

“I can see that,” Magnus interrupts, trying to glare a furious hole into the crest. “Are you going to explain why he just offered you a transfer?" he demands. "Are you changing Schools? I’d hate to get the wrong impression.”

He’s glad the coolness in his voice is steady, and nothing like the frenzied fear working up a storm inside his chest. There’s no way, surely, that Camille is doing what he thinks she’s doing.

When she says nothing, Magnus starts clicking things into place. “So that’s why you wanted to adapt the routine. You were going by their criteria. You used our final dance as an audition. _God_ ,” he hisses the word, shaking his head, “how could I not see that?”

_Because you’re a fool, and you’re in love, and Camille knows that._

Camille pays no attention to his mild breakdown, and simply looks apologetically at the guy. “Give me a few moments, please. I’ll be ready to sign as soon as possible.” She gives him a tight smile, and the red from her lipstick glistens like thick wine. Or blood.

When the guy leaves, his smug face disappearing before Magnus can punch a black eye into it, Camille turns to Magnus again. She sighs, grabs his arm, and tugs him towards one of the quieter parts of the huge hall. They reach the changing rooms, pushing past congratulating dancers and happy faces. It all becomes a blur. Magnus ignores it, only staring down at Camille's hand.

As soon as they reach where their bags and things are, Camille faces him with a frustratingly calm expression. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she says airily, holding up a finger. “I didn’t betray you. We’ve danced together for so long, you must be bored as well.” She leans back against the wall. 

At that, Magnus snaps completely. “Bored? he repeats, incredulously, torn between fury and hurt. He shakes his head, confronting the woman who’s supposed to be his anchor, the one who understands. And yet here they are, a partnership fading as quickly as smoke.

“How could I be bored?” he retorts angrily, “I _love_ you.”

_Damn it._

He really didn’t mean to throw that out there. Especially not now, when Camille is clearly already moving very swiftly on.

She barely bats an eyelash. “I never asked you to,” she says icily. She runs her hands across her dress, smoothing down the ruffles. 

The cruelty in that renders Magnus speechless. He swallows, ignoring the sting of tears that prick behind his eyelids. How can he argue with that? It’s true. No one forced him to fall in love with Camille, someone who’s unafraid to bathe in selfish whims, and take, take, and no give. She's never pretended to worship him. Whatever his mind tricked him into thinking isn't her fault.

This is Magnus’ fault, entirely.

And now he’s paying the price for it, both on and off the dancefloor.

How can it be that only minutes ago he was celebrating another victory, on top of the world and feeling like a king?

Now he’s crashing down and no one’s offering a hand. Certainly not Camille.

“So, what? That’s it?” Magnus eventually asks, hating how tired he sounds, like giving up is just a normal part of his job. “You’re ending our…partnership?”

Camille is facing away from him, bending over as she digs around in her bag. She's not even giving him the cutesy of facing her pride.

“I really do think you’re exaggerating,” she says. “We’ll find ourselves dancing together soon. This one won’t last long, but I want to squeeze a good year or two out of him-"

“Are you kidding?” he demands. He doesn't even want to know who she's referring to, only hopes that her new partner knows what he's getting into. He holds up a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other.

“Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t care. I’m done.” Magnus straightens, and quickly busies himself with gathering up his belongings. He shrugs on his jacket, zipping it with shaking fingers.

“I’m not sitting around waiting for you to come back," he says. "I can have a new partner in a heartbeat.”

Camille gives a little shrug. “Then why are you still here?” she asks. For a second, something that’s almost regret flashes across her face, but then it disappears. “Can I keep the trophy, darling?"

The question cuts Magnus open like a dull knife, aching hurt mixing in with his wounded pride. 

He nods once. "Why the hell not? It’s the only thing you can commit to, after all. Winning,” Magnus snarls. It's not really an insult when Camille looks incredibly happy with her double victory. 

He slings his bag over his shoulder and decides to change shoes later. He really can't stand looking at Camille for another second. 

As he rushes out, unable to rejoin his fellow dancers and co-workers after that, Magnus keeps his head bowed so no one catches sight of him. He's trying to hide the tears forming in his eyes as well, and because he's looking down, he almost collides with a guy near the hall's entrance. 

He doesn’t look up, just hears a brief, gruff, ‘oof’ and then side steps. The guy is pretty tall, but he doesn’t appear intimidating. He even holds out a hand to grip Magnus’ shoulder, steadying him on instinct.

“Shit, sorry,” Magnus mutters to the stranger, and then darts around him, rushing for the exit before any other awkward bumps occur. He leaves behind the sounds of clapping and music and racing heartbeats.

He heads for the nearest taxi stand, says the address of the bar, and falls into the backseat. He's still crying ten minutes later, the whirlwind experience rendering him speechless. He's gone from winning and powerful, to dropped and replaced. He's won another trophy, but lost a woman he thought he'd love forever. 

With literally nothing else to do, he texts Cat and Ragnor to meet him an hour early at the bar, and then slips the newspaper out from his bag. They always head out for victory drinks after a competition, but Magnus knows that the drinks will be for an entirely different reason this time.

Blinking away the tears, Magnus folds the newspaper over, revealing the front cover:

**ANNOUNCEMENT:**

_As of the Spring 2017 season, same-sex couples will be welcomed onto the Ballroom dancefloor!_

_See inside for details on the rule that'll shake up the world!_  

“Oh, whoa,” Magnus mutters, shocked enough to let the words slip into the air. The driver quirks an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. Magnus brushes away his tears, and scans the article, before giving it a second, more thoughrough reading.

 _Well, then,_ he thinks.

If it's some sort of sign, he'll take it. In the twenty minute cab ride, he formulates a plan, an idea that’ll have revenge on Camille, self-satisfaction, and hopefully, save a lot of miserable kids.

He looks out of the window, and smiles.

_I’m going to win again next year, and it’s going to be for better reasons than revenge._

He’s going to prove to himself, and the world, that he’s still going strong. He’s still the best of the best, with or without Camille.

More importantly, there's another - liberating - cause to fight for.

Magnus thinks back to growing up, to the occasional name-calling and sneers thrown his way. Dancing is a sport, and it's also an art. It's about time that the world wakes up and sees that.

Magnus glances at the headline again, and finally, smiles.

He vows,  _I'm going to win in the first same-sex partnership._

~

_2 months later_

"You’re making this ten times more difficult for yourself. Just dance in the Latin Championships again.”

“For the last time, I’m not doing this to prove anything to Camille. I could compete there if I wanted to, but I don't. Besides, I need a challenge. I’ve not danced Ballroom in years, and competing in it has always been a dream of mine."

"Right next to giving your poor friends whiplash," Catarina mutters. 

Magnus responds with a content shrug, watching his two friends cut into their grilled fish tacos and chicken salads. They've been sitting in _Cafe Colette_ for only twenty minutes, but already Magnus has a feeling that today is going to be a very productive day. At last. It's been a while since the dreaded incident last haunted his dreams. Yes, he still sometimes thinks about Camille, but he's gotten used to the occasional sympathetic look thrown his way. Despite taking some time off - and thankfully, with all the hours of training he's put in, he can afford to - Magnus still choreographs, from wedding dances to performances. It's the one work enjoyment he's kept up, needing something to focus on. 

Well, and this, the plan for the Spring Ballroom season of competing.  

His two best friends, Ragnor and Catarina, have finally agreed to help him move the plan into action. They've gathered at their favourite cafe for brunch, but Magnus realises he's the only one getting a good grilling. 

Ragnor, helpful as always, chimes in, "Also, you don’t have any Ballroom friends. How will you find a partner?”

“Thank you, Ragnor. Always a pleasure.” 

“What our friend is trying to say,” Catarina glares at him and finishes, “is that you need a partner. Someone who also wants to prove that the new rule was a good move. You want to win for the right reasons, yes?”

Magnus nods. “I’m not entirely vain, you know,” he comments, stabbing a fork into his mushroom and hall frittata. “Liking the limelight isn’t a bad thing, but you’re right, this is a big change." His thoughts turn to the traditionalists, and he can't keep the grimace at bay. "I’m sure the dancing committees are just waiting for a disaster so they can rush to return to tradition," he mutters.

“Exactly,” Catarina agrees. “You have to choose carefully. Put together a team you can rely on.”

It would be too easy if Cat and Ragnor were fellow dancers, but they weren't. His two friends were, however, top-notch journalists, writing for two papers that have often given Magnus great publicity, when he needs it, and kept him out of it too. It's why not many papers ran a story on Magnus and Camille's separation. Of course, some did, and news travels fast, but it was still a massive help.

Still, the temptation for an easy way out is there. Magnus thinks for a few moments, before turning to Ragnor and narrowing his eyes.

“You,” he says, pleadingly, “partner me.”

Ragnor replies with an undignified snort, so loud that it actually draws the attention of a few other coffee lovers. One guy cocks his head, widening his eyes, and Magnus wonders if he recognises him. When he offers a wave, and a charming smile, the man grins back, wiggling his fingers at him before burying himself intensely in his book again.

“I take it that was a resounding no?” Magnus half-asks, half-sighs. He turns away from the cute guy and relapses back into silence, thinking.

He needs a good partner. No, an _excellent_ one; someone who can match his pace and level, but also form a good connection. They only have a few months to train, so he needs to get a move on, especially with the competitions already beginning soon. All the hype and publicity will then lead into the qualifier rounds. Every dancing couple needs support, and a team, ready to go by then.

Business-like, Cat decides to furrow in her bag. She pulls out a notepad, pen, and plasters on an award-winning smile.

“Right,” she begins. “Firstly, you need a tutor. Not a choreographer. You'll do that, yes?" She barely gives him a second to nod, before continuing. "And more importantly, a Ballroom School to dance under their name.”

“Ah, I’ve got this one sorted,” Magnus says, allowing his smile to turn smug. When his friends give him pointed, inquiring looks, he leans back in his chair, draping an arm over the side. “Jocelyn’s daughter, Clary. She has a friend who dances Ballroom.”

“Jocelyn? Oh, Luke’s other half.”

Magnus nods in confirmation. “Yep. That’s the one." He smiles, thinking about the pair. Jocelyn and Luke live along the same block, and they've been friends for a while. "She spoke to her daughter, who’s kindly offered to introduce me to the girl.”

“Right. Name,” Catarina inquires, pen at the ready.

“Isabelle Lightwood.”

This time, Ragnor’s scoff becomes a splutter of disbelief. He looks mortally wounded when tea spills onto the table, rendered undrinkable now.

Magnus hides his guilty grin. He knew the name would stir up some surprise.

“Oh, do you know of her?” he asks innocently.

Even Cat’s focused look has become softer. “ _The_ Isabelle?” she asks. “Who partners her brother, Alec? Daughter of Maryse and Robert Lightwood, who won the American Ballroom Championships seven years running? Oh, yes, no big deal.” Catarina gives a slow whistle of approval. “It really is about who you know.”

“It is,” Magnus agrees. "As a journalist, I thought you'd know this, dear," he teases, laughing when Cat gives him a dry look in reply.

But he is grateful for Jocelyn, and Clary, agreeing to help him out. It’s not like they’ve promised him a partner, but they’ve given him a starting point. Even if Isabelle can’t help, Magnus hopes that he can be pointed in the right direction.

“How’d you swing that one?” Ragnor asks, mildly impressed but trying hard not to show it.

Magnus cradles his mug in his hands, blowing gently on the hot drink. “Clary owes me,” he explains. “I was her model for her final college art project. My beautiful face still hangs up in the corridor somewhere.”

Ragnor winces. “Poor students.”

“They’re blessed,” Magnus argues, taking a sip to indicate his silent refusal to sink any further to his friend’s level.

“Mm. Sure.”

“Anyway,” Catarina says, raising her voice a little, “the point is…?”

Grateful for her refocusing, Magnus says, “She can introduce me to Isabelle, who I’ve heard lovely things from.” Magnus thinks for a moment. He’s only caught glimpses of the Lightwood talent, but he knows that Isabelle and Alec are almost unbeatable. Two years ago, they placed second at the International Ballroom Championships for the second year, but last year they were beaten by _The Circle Company’s_ brightest star, Jonathan Morgenstern, last year, who made a shocking comeback after a year ban. Turns out the dancing board weren’t really a fan of drug-induced stamina.

“Okay, so you have a contact.” Catarina pauses. “You still need a school.”

“I do. Isabelle’s.”

Ragnor opens his mouth to retort, but then he hesitates. Something clouds across his expression, a sort of gentle worrying.

“Yes,” he begins, slowly, “because their school will welcome someone like you.” He meets Magnus’ eyes, and there’s no judgement there, just friendly concern.

“A Latin dancer, you mean?” Magnus asks carefully. “Don’t be a snob. I'm sure they value all dance styles.” He stares down at his mug again, before returning to his food, not sure whether to defend or agree. Dancers usually perform in both the Latin and Ballroom categories, and then specialise during older ages, if they desire. The Lightwoods are classically taught and lean towards the Ballroom competitions. It’s why Magnus rarely crosses their path. Until now, he’s been a Latin star, and seen no use in competing professionally in Ballroom. But he’s well aware of the divides between the styles.

Which is why he hopes, with this new rule change, the social stigmas surrounding dance can be challenged. Snobbery exists across the board. Magnus hopes to rinse it out like a bad hair dye job.

Ragnor seems to be on the same track. “Yes,” he says, “but their School is a Ballroom legend. Classic. _Snobs_.” Ragnor re-emphasises. “They’ll think you’re taking the piss by wanting to flaunt the rule change in their faces.”

“I’m not,” Magnus insists. “I want to do this. Besides," he says carefully, "what’s so bad about the new rule?”

“Nothing,” Cat quickly says. She glares across the table, at Ragnor, until he huffs out a sound that’s supposed to be apologetic.

“We’re just…concerned,” Ragnor finally settles on the words. He turns to look at Magnus, and Magnus can’t be too angry given how supportive his friends have been, despite their teases. They've been his rock these past couple of months. 

Just when he’s about to open his mouth and thank them, Magnus watches Ragnor’s smirk return.

“Besides, I’m inviting myself along to watch this backfire brilliantly.”

“Supportive as ever.”

Ragnor lifted his tea cup. “You bet.”

~

“Magnus Bane?”

Alec has to ask twice, just to make sure he didn’t hit his head on the way into the room. Surely his imagination isn’t that oddly specific, to fake-hear that a famous Latin dancer in heading to _The Clave's_ School.

“You heard correct, big brother. Magnus Bane. The one, the only. Also known as the Prince of Salsa. Those hips.” Izzy giggles, and makes a little spin, the fringe hemline of her dress fanning out. She sighs deeply. “I wish Magnus was under our School, then we could partner up.”

“I’m right here, Iz,” Alec deadpans, pointing.

Isabelle just laughs, dismissing his narrowed eyes with a grin. “Oh, come on. You know I’d never abandon you, big brother, but…Magnus. Bane.” She laughs again. “He’s amazing. Almost as talented as me.”

“Almost,” Alec says, and fondly taps her nose. They’re alone, just the pair of them occupying the wonderfully spacious practise room 2. He has to teach the under 11s in a hour, but for now, he’s spending some time with Izzy, going over a couple of new sequences they might include in this season’s routines.

It’s months to go before the qualifiers, but as Alec always likes to think, it’s never too early to polish shoes, learn lifts, and choreograph in advance.

“Why’s he coming?” Alec asks, trying to keep his tone flat and casual.

“Clary said he’s interested in Ballroom again. He could just be polishing up his skills.”

Processing this, Alec continues to sift through the music selection, trying to find one of his favourites. He’s standing on the raised platform at the end of the floor, where the stereo systems and music is kept. From his spot, he can look up and see Isabelle, who’s taken to waltzing around the room, occasionally stopping to eye up the surrounding mirrors that encircle the large room. Wooden floorboards, mirrors, and shiny shoes: the title of Alec’s future autobiography, not that he’d ever let the public in to see his personal life.

 _You don’t have one,_ his brain chimes in.

He finally finds the chosen CD, and ignores the little ache in his stomach that accompanies that thought. Slotting the music in, he steps down from the platform and comes back over to Isabelle.

“I didn’t know Magnus dances Ballroom.”

Izzy nods. “Yes. Not competitively though.”

“That’s a good thing,” Alec admits. “We might actually have competition then.”

Isabelle agrees with a small hum, and then holds out her arms, grinning as he takes her into hold. There’s no need for words, not usually, but they’re just practising, so Alec doesn’t grill her too firmly. She’s an exquisite dancer, and not for the first time, Alec has to swallow down the rising bile of jealousy. Well, shame, more than angry pride. Isabelle is a natural performer. Alec can dance the steps perfectly, and smoothly, but he’s never been able to…dazzle. Not like Izzy can. He’s the dull silver that Isabelle adds shine to as she twirls around on the floor with him.

As they spin around, laughing occasionally, and swiping each other when their toes slip, Alec starts to think about the other dancer again. There are countless people who would partner Magnus, so why is he dropping out of Latin completely?

As if sensing his thoughts, Isabelle heads over to the low bench, reaching for the water bottle. She takes a quick swig, gulping, and then frowns.

“He’s probably not entering this year," Izzy suggests. Her eyes flash with anger. "Not after the Camille thing. I suspect you wouldn’t want to trust another partner after that.”

Alec hides his scowl. “Seriously, who dumps their partner right after a Championships win?” He stares into the mirror, a hard look in his eyes as he remembers the awful event. He’d actually watched the pair dance their victory samba. He’s not often gone to watch the Latin events, as they’re on different days to the Ballroom contests, but he offered to pick Isabelle and Lydia up after they're done watching. The pair always go to watch, Izzy, in particular, having an equal enjoyment for the faster dances.

He also remembers the other moment, the one he’s still not told Isabelle about. There’s not much to tell, anyway. Colliding with Magnus, as he stormed out of the room, doesn’t seem like something to brag about. Not when the poor guy looked close to tears, and Alec hadn’t said a damn word, just watched him leave, biting his tongue.

In the months that followed, Magnus has been quiet. The Spring season for the International Championships begins in April, which is a couple of months away, but still, couples usually began announcing their partnerships soon, and entering other contests to gain publicity and popularity.

When Isabelle gives a sad shrug, Alec shakes his head, confusion still driving him onwards. “I mean, they were unstoppable. From what I’ve heard,” he adds quickly. He turns away from the mirror, kicking at a small crack between the floorboards. “Why would you give that up?”

 _Give Magnus up,_ he wants to add, but the words stay silent. They reveal a little too much enthusiasm for the other dancer. Enthusiasm that Alec doesn’t want confused with…adoration. Respect for Magnus is one thing. Admiration is another.

He’s never properly met the guy – Ballroom and Latin events are usually on separate days - but Alec knows that Magnus isn’t one of those dancers, or people, that you drop. He’s someone you keep around for as long as possible.

“Oh my god. Alec,” Izzy suddenly says. Her eyes are wide.

“What?”

“You don’t think…this is about the rule?”

“The new rule?”

“Yes!” Isabelle cries.

“And why is any of this related to us?” Alec asks, trying to keep his voice flat and unaffected. But if he’s honest with himself, he’s been thinking about that rule. A lot. What does it mean for the future of dancing? What does it hold for young dancers who can’t force intimacy with society’s preferred match for them?

In his dreams, everything goes smoothly, and there’s no such thing as closeting or shame. Realism crushes those hopes quickly. Alec just bites his tongue, waiting for the inevitable mess that this rule will cause. People, in his experience, don’t like change. He doesn’t give himself the freedom to make his own opinion. That’ll mean actually taking an interest in dancing as a personal enjoyment, and that intimacy isn’t something that Alec is ready for.

Will he ever be?

“Because we’re a top School,” Isabelle is saying, oblivious to his hidden dilemmas. “He needs publicity. A new angle. After Camille, he’s probably looking for a new start. Do you think he’s coming for-“

“- a new partner,” Alec finishes. “In Ballroom. Makes sense. We’ll just have to wait and see. I doubt mom is going to be happy.”

“With a dance god shaking up the tradition?” Isabelle snorts. “That’s putting it mildly. She can’t stand Latin. Thinks it’s all gyrating and porno music.”

Alec swallows. “It is more…intimate.”

“Don’t be a snob, Alec,” Isabelle warns him. “Mom and dad are always making it seem like Ballroom is better just because it’s rooted in tradition. It’s classic. Whatever.” She waves a hand in dismissal. “Latin is about fire and passion, but also control. You sure don’t land _American Spins_ without serious focus and balance.”

“What’s an _American Spin_?” Alec asks, helplessly intrigued.

Izzy does a turn on one foot, spotting carefully, and quickly spinning once. Even she wobbles. “See? Difficult.”

Alec watches her little demonstration with a smirk. “I’ll take your word for it,” he surrenders.

“Besides, the tango is just as…intimate," she repeats with a wink.

“Which is why we don’t make up stories when we dance. That would be weird.”

Isabelle laughs in agreement. “True.”

Most Ballroom dances allow for creative freedom, especially in the higher ranks. Alec and Isabelle, being pros- Gold level - means that instead of performing alongside others in competitions, each couple is given a minute and a half on the floor. Some couples liked to build characters and stories, using props and anything to make them stand out.

Alec and Isabelle, thanks to their parents, tend to stick to tradition; simple yet precise, flawless routines. Their forms are sharp, and their footwork is never a step out of place. Isabelle’s charm is enough to get them noticed, and Alec is always there to show her off. The lifts are what really wins them the contests. Dancing with your sibling means that you grow up learning how to throw them over your shoulder. Where other couples waste time learning to trust, Alec and Izzy are always ready to try out new lifts and fit them seamlessly into their dances.

Tradition, Alec knows, is what gives the School its reputation. Their parents are dancing, and teaching, legends, and Alec and Izzy are well on their way to following in their footsteps.

_If the pressure doesn’t kill us first._

“So, when’s he coming?”

Isabelle smiles, slow and knowingly. “Why? You wanna meet him?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Alec counteracts.

Isabelle nods in agreement, but there’s still that look in her eyes, like she knows more than she’s letting on. What is his sister up to now? 

"Right," Alec begins, stretching out his neck. He silences all other thoughts and refocuses. "I have a class soon, so I'd better go." He leans in and offers Izzy a quick hug. "See you later, Iz."

She gives a little wave, continuing to use the open space to practice, but as soon as he's halfway out of the room, the music silences. A few seconds later, another track starts playing. Drum beats sing out, and a quick, jazz piece comes from the speakers. 

Alec's pretty sure it's a Jive song, but he doesn't say anything.

He'll let Izzy have her dream, and keep his own to himself as well.

As he walks to find his classroom, readying to teach for the day, Alec keeps tracking back to the new rule. It's been an unspoken thing in his family. No one's commented much on it. He knows that Maryse finds it distasteful.

Alec glances around and then considers something else.

What would it be like to dance professionally with another guy? Would he have to force intimacy, or would it surprise him, and enjoyment would finally be within his grasp?

He switches on the lights, bathing in the soft glow and the empty room. Dozens of himself stare back from the mirrors, watching, waiting.

Alec keeps staring, but nothing changes.

~

“Biscuit, please hurry up,” Magnus calls from the bottom of the steps. “Your shortness does not allow for bad time management.”

The accused time-waster lifts her chin, but it still only gives her enough height to make her nose visible.

“If I wasn’t holding boxes right now,” comes the muffled reply, “I’d hit you.”

Magnus chuckles as he comes up to assist her. “Noted,” he says, saluting once. He takes one of the cardboard boxes from Clary’s arms, and walks the rest of the way to the car with her.

The car is parked only a short walk down the street from the dorm room and so they exchange some small talk, catching up. It’s been a while since he’s seen Jocelyn’s daughter, who has now graduated art school with – to no one’s surprise – top marks and an exciting future ahead of her. He smiles warmly as she proudly talks about her work, and he offers a brief overview of his life, explains how he’s still working as a choreographer, just not dancing for a little while.

Thankfully, Clary doesn’t press for details, but he catches her understanding look. He has a feeling that Jocelyn must’ve told her daughter about recent events.

“Final box,” Clary announces. She finishes straightening it in the boot and then sighs. Her red hair is in a tight ponytail, and there are paint smudges across her forehead.

Magnus leans forwards and swipes his thumb over them, rubbing carefully. “You’re wearing your art again, dear.”

“She _is_ the art.” A tall, gangly boy with a wide grin and handsome face comes bouncing down the road. He’s got a suitcase dragging behind him, and wears a plaid shirt, jeans and pair of sunglasses that Magnus suppresses a grin at. It’s not warm here, given the February weather, but where the pair are heading is sunglasses weather.

“Charming boy.” Magnus grins. He greets the newcomer with a quick once-over, deciding that there’s something lovely about the boy, something open and honest. “Bet you win over all the ladies with that suave?”

The guy cocks his head, lips twitching. “You assume I like girls?” he challenges, not unkindly.

“Touche,” Magnus says. He turns to Clary and points to her friend. “I like this one. Keep him.”

The guy grins back. He’s bouncing on the spot, energy spilling out of him, and Magnus remembers hearing from Jocelyn that Clary’s best friend is a musician. As he notices the guy’s restless finger-tapping and nose twitching, Magnus accepts this without a doubt.

Clary shakes her head, fondly smiling as she comes to stand beside him. “This,” she begins, “is Simon Lewis. My best friend.” Clary pinches his cheek between her fingers and he squirms, but laughs and lets her come around to jump onto his back.

She wraps her arms around Simon’s neck, smirking as she says, “He doesn’t care what you have between your legs, as long as you’ve seen _Star Wars.”_

An idea lights up Simon’s face. “I’m changing my Twitter bio to that,” he happily says. He shifts, helping Clary climb back down to the ground. They help load Simon’s luggage into the boot of the car, and then head inside, with Simon holding the door open for his friend.

Magnus climbs into the passenger side, already feeling less tense as he embraces Clary and Simon’s warm, friendly natures. He places his messenger bag down on the floor, leaning back and waiting for Clary to climb into the front.

Before she starts the engine, she meets Simon’s gaze, holding it through the front mirror. “Definitely all set? No turning back,” she warns.

“Yep.”

“Good. This gal is ready for a vacation.”

“How long are you going for?” Magnus asks conversationally. He stares out of the window, admiring the colours and busy streets that pass them by. New York is always ready for _something_ , and Magnus hopes it’s a good day to be a part of an adventure.

“Two weeks,” Clary replies. “I think that’s enough time to get arrested, blank out half the stuff, and wake up surrounded by strangers.”

“I,” Simon says, loudly, “on the other hand, will settle for finding some vintage arcade games.”

Magnus grins in approval. The two new graduates are heading on a two week trip to Vegas. That means preparing for a lot of weird drunken _Snapchat_ stories as well as mushy voicemails. He absolutely cannot wait, and promises to be the one to bail them out if all goes to hell.

They were calling it their ‘best friends go wild’ trip; an end of college holiday that Magnus hopes doesn’t end in handcuffs. They were finally twenty-one, but still, Magnus can’t help but be a little worried. Clary’s fiery nature works well for art, but means she’s a little unpredictable and stubborn in every other aspect of her life.

But, Magnus doesn’t protest too much, because they’re being kind enough to drop Magnus off at the dance school downtown, close to Fifth Avenue. Clary is going to introduce him to the Lightwoods, and then say goodbye before ‘shit goes down’ – Clary’s words, not his, but she also wants to say goodbye to Isabelle before they head off to return their things to home before catching a flight to Vegas.

“So,” Simon says from the backseat, his eager eyes on Magnus, “you want to take on the Ballroom world, huh? Latin wasn’t enough for you, greedy,” he teases, knee still bouncing up and down.

Clary shoots him a warning look. “Simon,” she mutters.

 _That settles it then_ , Magnus thinks. They definitely know, or have been told about his broken partnership. Silence hovers in the air, but poor Simon doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“What?” he says, frowning. His expression is sympathetic as he says, “I was just saying that he’s already won the Latin Championships like three times, why can’t I….Oh.” When he breaks off, Simon ducks his head, sheepish. “Your ex,” he mutters. “Sorry.”

Magnus quickly holds up a hand, waving it off. “No apology needed,” he promises, but the tightness in his throat lingers for a while afterwards.  

“She didn’t deserve you,” Clary says firmly. “On, or off the stage.” Her eyes catch his for a moment, and Magnus is happily surprised by the fierceness in them.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. He turns back to window-gazing, where the world outside is wider, filling in the hollow cracks of his still-wounded heart.  “Besides,” he says casually, “Camille isn’t all bad.”

A sigh comes from the back seat. “Plus, those legs,” Simon says.

Magnus would laugh if the ache would just go away already.

“Yes,” he says, grateful for the pair no longing bouncing around the subject. He needs to start getting used to talking about it. Why not start now? “Her physical aspects are quite nice too,” Magnus admits, “but she is fun. Was. Was fun. And…dangerously confident. More so than me.”

Now it’s his turn to trail off, unsure where that point was even going.

Clary shakes her head. Her eyes are trained on the road, but she grips the wheel tighter, her lips taut with anger. “You’re confident. She’s manipulative,” Clary says. “You don’t push others down to feel good about yourself.”

As they reach a light, Clary pauses and turns to smile at him, reaching out with a hand to cover his forearm.

“You’re too good for her,” she gently repeats. Her lips pull up at the corners mischievously. “ _And_ , we’re going to find you a new partner. Someone who actually deserves to dance with you.”

Warmth settling around the ache, dissolving it a bit more, he smiles. “That would be nice,” Magnus admits. Simon agrees with a thumbs up.

“Isabelle will find you someone,” Clary says, “I promise. That girl knows so many beautiful boys and girls, I swear it’s like going clubbing with the cast of _Game Of Thrones_.”

Simon chimes in, “But without the violent deaths?”

“Only _little_ deaths,” Clary retorts, winking through the mirror.

It even takes Magnus a moment to get that innuendo. He waits until the next red light and offers Clary a fist bump in reward, and they laugh as Simon scrunches up his nose and silently puzzles it over in the back for the rest of the ride.

After another ten minutes, Clary pulls up in front of a large building. It looks smaller than he expected, but the marble is polished and clean, and the two columns beside the two make it look like an Ancient Greek temple. It’s on a busy street, but tucked away, giving it that nice, approachable feeling that Magnus didn’t expect from a top-ranking dance School. He doesn’t see people rushing out, tears in their eyes, or hear the screams from harsh instructors.

“And here we are,” Clary says, a few moments later, when they’re standing before the large staircase leading up to the door. “ _The Clave’s School of Ballroom Dancing_.”

Magnus cocks his head to the side. “Bit of a mouthful,” he says, anything to cover up the nervous clenching in his stomach.

“Got that right.” Simon nods, coming to stand beside them. “We just call it _The Institute_.”

Magnus blinks, half-turning to face the boy. “That makes absolutely no sense,” he says flatly. “Explain.”

“Because when you leave, you don’t get out.”

“Jesus Christ,” Magnus mutters. “This is dancing, people, not an asylum. I suppose they think it’s all work and no play.”

He doesn’t need to wait for a confirmation. The silence is all he needs.

Noticing his displeased – perhaps frightened – look, Clary gives his arm a comforting pat.

“They’re tough, but they get results,” she reminds him. “They came close to winning last year, but this year, I think it’s their time. So they’re under a lot of pressure from their parents. Play nice,” Clary warns. “If you hurt my friend, I’ll fight you.”

Magnus nods, but can’t help but slyly ask, “When you’re back from prison?”

Clary takes this in her stride. “Yep. But I _will_ come back early if you make Izzy cry.”

The first to head up the stairs, Simon nods in agreement. “Same,” he says, as they catch up with him. “I mean, Isabelle can take care of herself but…I can be a cheerleader.”

Magnus studies the guy for a moment, before giving a small hum of approval. “You’d look stunning with pigtails, Simon,” he teases. “Am I sensing a little crush there, hm?”

“W-what? No, that’s, that’s—“

They reach the top of the stairs and Clary saves him with a shrug. “It’s Isabelle. Everyone has a crush on her. Wait till you see her, you’ll understand.”

“I’ve seen her before, you know. Briefly. Well, in a photo.”

“Well, they’re all stunning." Clary holds open the door and ushers them inside. "Come on, let’s go introduce you to the Lightwoods. This should be interesting."

Simon ducks under her arm, muttering, "And by interesting, you mean soul-sucking.”

“The worst kind of sucking,” Magnus says.

Clary wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”

“Then they’re not doing it right.”

Clary laughs, and even Simon smiles, but as soon as they push open the double doors, a strange tension settles over the trio.

There’s a class underway in the main room – a large wooden floor surrounded by mirrors, and a small stage for stereos and equipment towards the front. The velvet curtain draping down the walls are rich purple, and elegant, as is the tall woman addressing a group of teens. Her expression is stern, and her hair is pulled back so tightly into a bun that Magnus fears it might be giving her permanent Botox. 

“…and where was the rise and fall?" the woman snaps. "These are the very basics. Form, poise, holding up the frame. You cannot, and must not, overlook them. Because the judges will most definitely be looking for any slip ups." She snaps her fingers, pointing to the floor. "So, _again_. Get into hold.”

As the group of students rush to partner up, Clary leans and whispers, “And that, is Maryse Lightwood.”

"I figured," Magnus says. "The horns gave it away."

Simon waits behind the nearby column, eyes scanning over the impressive collection of awards and trophies lining the walls and shelves.  

“Are you sure she’s related to this friend of yours?” Magnus asks quietly, as they watch the teens partner up and hold a pose that looks incredibly graceful, but also uncomfortable. Their backs are arching and their knees are bent, waiting for the next instruction.

“Yeah. She’s a badass though,” Simon says. “Always has a winner in every ballroom category. From the toddlers to the over 60s. They’re pretty awesome.”

Magnus swallows back the sudden rush of nerves. He’s good, but he’s beginning to question why Maryse, or any of the Lightwoods, will want to help him challenge the status quo of dancing. Especially if it means he’ll be going against their own. Why would Maryse let him take away their reputation? Let him challenge the very same authority that has produced winners each year?

After another moment of watching, Clary tugs them both away from the class, and down another, long hallway. 

“This way," she says. There are lots of doors, and music drifting around the place, and Magnus likes the rhythm of the place. Even if it’s Ballroom, there’s still a lovely chaos of bodies rushing around, and steps being counted, and songs being repeated. Dance, of any kind, is a home for Magnus. He can already feel himself relaxing as Clary knocks on one of the red doors.

It opens, and a stunning brunette with a beaming smile opens the door. She peers out, sees who it is, and then opens the door fully. She wraps her arms around Clary and squeezes her waist. Magnus smiles as the two girls hug, and then the brunette pulls back and pouts. It’s a pout that puts even Magnus’ to shame.

“You’re leaving me, Clary Fairchild,” the girl says sadly. Her eyes narrow playfully as she points to Simon. “And you, you had better take care of my girl. If anything happens, I’m taking back that _Pokémon_ gym from you.”

“Isabelle,” Simon gasps out, gaping a bit. “You wouldn’t!” 

The brunette – who is apparently one half of the legendary Lightwood duo – grins. “Try me," she dares, but the smile on her face erases any cruelty.

Unlike her mother, Isabelle is smiling happily and greets Magnus with wide eyes. “Well, this is an honour,” she drawls. It’s almost a purr, and Magnus admits that she’s stunning, just like Clary foretold. She holds out a hand, and he shakes it, looking down at her hands for a moment.

“Great polish,” he says, nodding to her nails. “Azature’s _Black Diamond,_ right? Always a win.”

Izzy beams. “Thank you! I like the glitter,” she returns, eyeing up his muted gold liner and carefully-painted lids.

Magnus studies her for a moment before asking, “Do you like cats?”

“Who doesn’t?”

He beams. “Then I’ll give you my _Instagram_. Cats, glitter and dancing.”

When the pair shares a laugh, Clary shakes her head, amused. “And here I was worried they wouldn’t get along,” she says dryly. When Simon gives her an apologetic but insistent look, the other girl sighs. She wraps an arm around Isabelle’s waist, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Must be off,” she says. She smiles at Magnus, coming closer to offer a hug. “I’ll leave you in the hands of my Latina goddess,” Clary jokes.

She gives Isabelle’s hand another squeeze. “I’ll text you when we land, after mom and Luke are convinced that I’m not gonna do anything stupid,” she says, rolling her eyes at her parents’ protectiveness. “Good luck with the classes,” Clary says to Isabelle, “and show me pictures of all the dresses.”

“Bye, Isabelle,” Simon says, softly, and Izzy pulls him in by the shirt and kisses him on the cheek. “Take care," she says. “Watch out for the girls who will be throwing themselves at you.”

Simon shuffles on his feet before mumbling, "None will be as beautiful as you.”

Izzy quirks an eyebrow, surveying him with glee. “Oh really?”

“I mean, not that you’re _not_ beautiful, Clary, but…”

“Isabelle is flawless. Yes. I know,” Clary interrupts with a laugh, not bothered in the slightest. She prods Simon's chest, getting him in the ribs and making him yelp. “Let’s go before you embarrass yourself anymore.” She hops onto Simon’s back, and they head down the corridor like that, piggy-backing and giggling.

When the two friends are gone from view, Isabelle turns back to face him.

“So, you’re Magnus Bane," she says.

Magnus holds out both arms. “The one and only," he confirms. "Actually, that’s a lie. There’s probably someone else out there with my name.”

“No way near as beautiful though.”

Magnus finds himself smiling warmly again. "True. Same to you, my dear."

Isabelle's grin turns playful again. She holds herself with pride, and grace, but doesn't assert any kind of power over him. Magnus likes her immediately. He has a feeling she'll be very helpful indeed. 

“You’ve already won me over," Izzy says. She points to herself. "See? Blushing.” Pressing a hand against the classroom door, Isabelle cocks her head and asks, "So, want to come and see little ones tripping over their toes?”

“You’re a minx.” Without hesitation, Magnus adds, “Yes, please.”

~

He waits patiently for Izzy’s class to finish – a beginner’s level class for Waltz, which Magnus finds both endearing and a little frightening. Surely it hasn’t been that long that seven year olds can remember the names of steps better than he can? Perhaps it has.

The last time Magnus danced professionally at Ballroom level was, well, never. Although when he first trained, he was trained in Latin and Ballroom, he only ever competed in Latin. It was more natural for him; he could move freely, express the passion easier. Ballroom was…controlled. Precise. Less room for improvisation.

But even as he watches the little ones, and Izzy, he realises that Ballroom is just as beautiful. The arches are elegant, the footwork is like puzzle pieces that have to be placed together just right. It’s a miracle when Isabelle has them doing a turnabout the room without falling over.

Also, it’s ironic in a sad way, because the girls and boys in the class aren’t divided. There’s no partnering divined between the sexes. Not yet. The boys are laughing and helping each other, and the girls are taking turns to practice in both roles. So what changes? What makes it so that dancing same sex when you’re older is dangerous? Against the dancing law?

Not anymore, but that could change back again. _If_ he doesn't help prove the rule change was a good one. 

Magnus feels a sudden swirl of anger beating against his chest. He cages it carefully. Now is the time to prove the traditionalists wrong. Not to show them that he’s prone to lashing out and bitterness. How is that going to help prove his point? He wants anyone to dance, and with anyone they wish.

He needs to be careful. And find the right partner-

“So, Alec.”

“Hm?” Magnus looks up and sees that the class is trickling out, their parents greeting the kids with happy grins, and even the odd stern look. He stands up, abandoning the small bench that has been his viewing platform, and comes over to stand by Isabelle. 

She continues, “I was saying, that you should come and meet my brother, Alec.”

This piques Magnus' interest. "Oh, wonderful," he says. "Is he as beautiful as you?” he asks, covering up the anxious knot in his stomach. Soon, he'll have to inquire about a partner, or at least a teacher. What if they suddenly turn him away?

Izzy shrugs. “Taller. Nice hair. Gruff voice.”

“Stick up his ass?”

“Just a bit," Isabelle agrees. She holds the door open for Magnus, carrying on as they walk down the halls together. "He’s under a lot of stress," Izzy says. "With the International Championship this year, mom and dad are really putting a lot of pressure on a 1st place win. Me too, but…Alec is getting the brunt of it.”

“But he likes dancing, right?” Magnus enquiries.

Isabelle nods, but the worried lines in her forehead stick around. “Oh, yes. Of course. We all do. Alec loves it, he’s just less…showy. He’s not a show-off. Reserved, but well taught. He’s a great dancer. With me, at least. Which is why he’s stressing out.”

“Why’s that?”

Isabelle looks around, checking for any passersby, and then says, "Mom wants to enter us separately. Double the chances of winning.”

“But…you’re stronger together. That’s stupid.” He quickly holds up a hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No, no, you’re right. But…I’m still not up to Alec’s standards. I started a bit later, and…I mucked around a lot more. I liked dancing, but I didn’t treat it as a discipline. Or even a sport. It was fun for me. It still is, but now I understand the pressure. I’m only at Silver level, really. Alec is at Gold so we enter at that rank. He could be Gold Star.”

“Silver. How terrible.” Magnus rolls his eyes. He’s just about Silver level himself, or at least, he was. Just because he’s passed all the Bronze and half of the Silver exams, doesn’t mean he’s not brushed up enough to reclaim that level.

“So you’re partnering different people this season?” he asks.

Izzy nods. “Yeah. At least, it looks that way. I’m fine. I have Meliorn.”

“Ooh. Boyfriend?”

“Kind of. I mean, we hook up, but nothing serious. He’s a great friend, and we dance really well together, but that’s it. We both respect that.”

The way she speaks about the relationship is mature, and Magnus is quite sure that Izzy is someone he’d like to call a friend. If he has the chance.

Magnus frowns, remembering the other part. “But Alec…?"

“He doesn’t want to dance with someone else," Isabelle explains, her voice quiet and sad now. "Our friend, Lydia, is a good match, but…there’s still something missing. They’re both too good. Too proper. There’s no connection.”

“I see," Magnus says, understanding. And he does. Dancing without chemistry, or an eye-capturing dynamic, is bad. They need to hook an audience, gain attention in some way; draw out their strengths. It isn’t enough to go through the moves perfectly.

As they come to a smaller hallway, where gentle music rises from the closest door, Isabelle turns to him. She seems to be blocking the door, like she wants to clarify something before she unlocks the door for him. 

The thought comes to mind that maybe she's protecting her brother.

_From me?_

Magnus frowns and then considers that Izzy is just guarding her brother against added pressure, which Magnus admires.

He holds her gaze with a careful look.

"Moving away from us," Isabelle begins, "tell me more about your goal here. What are you hoping for, Magnus?” Izzy asks. Just like he thought before, this is a test. Magnus doesn't know what answer she wants, but he can start with the truth.

"I want you to find me a partner for this season's Championships." Before he can hesitate, he carries on. "I want to show my support for the new rule change. So many on the judging panel are scrutinising it, saying it breaks tradition and messes up the dances, but…I want to dance with anyone I choose. And I want that for everyone else. The world needs to see an example, and I want to be that. Besides," he adds, swaying his shoulders, "I like the attention.” 

At that, Isabelle narrows her eyes, but her smile is soft and understanding. "Don't do that," she says quietly. "Cover up how you feel, I mean. There’s enough of that going around here, as you’ll soon learn. But," she says, nodding, "if you want to find a partner, someone who will dance with you this year…I think that can be arranged.”

Hope starts to sneak its way into Magnus' heart. He tries to simmer it down. “You’ll let me dance…under the School’s name?” he asks slowly.

Izzy gives him an apologetic look. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any control over that," she admits. "Mom and dad will need some…persuasion. But if we work the publicity angle, it should help." She places a hand on the doorknob, and asks, "Oh, what rank are you?"

"Silver. Lower stages of Gold. But I'm a fast learner. I can get there," Magnus insists. "I just need a good teacher.”

Izzy smiles at that. “Now that, I can definitely help you with." A sly grin covers her lovely face. "Mom and dad can’t actually ban you from taking lessons here. So if you can pay, you can get tutorage. We can sort out a partner for you, and go from there?”

“Sounds great. Baby steps.” He smirks. “Then choreography, music, staging. All that jazz.”

“All that jazz,” Isabelle repeats with a wink. She opens the door, and Magnus, feeling proud and happy, starts to head inside.

“You’re going to need that charm to win over your new teacher," Isabelle is saying, and he turns around, watching her. "Just a head’s up.”

“Oh. Not to worry," Magnus preens. He walks into the room, not looking ahead, but turning around and watching Isabelle close the door instead. He takes another step back, grinning. “I’m extremely irresistible- _oof!”_

Magnus feels a weight ghost against his back. When he spins around, a quick series of events happen. First, he turns around. Second, he sees that there is a tall guy about to step into his space. Three, Magnus then acts on training instinct and holds up his arms. The man glides smoothly into a dance hold, one hand around Magnus’ waist and the other clasping his raised hand, and then they’re just left to stare at each other, ready to dance a dance that neither saw coming. 

_Well, damn._

Magnus not only knows with perfect clarity why he’s gotten into hold – habit, instinct – but also _who_ he’s just stepped into his arms. Hazel eyes – slightly wide. Dark hair, deliciously tousled. Lips, full, pink and delightfully plump. Thick eyebrows. Strong grip – which makes Magnus linger on the straining forearms against the man’s black t-shirt. Tall. Beautiful. Gaping like a fish.

_Alec Lightwood._

Magnus opens his mouth. Before he can stop himself – and still frozen in hold in Alec’s arms – Magnus calls out, “And this, kids, is why you should always be prepared. Surprise attacks like this get you far in life.”

He tilts his chin again, looking up at Alec – which barely requires a tiny movement, but still, he’s slightly taller than Magnus. Which is unusual. He considers himself of above average height. But still, Alec isn’t overwhelmingly taller, and he hunches a bit, so they’re basically the same height anyway. Which means their noses brush a bit, and their chests – somehow caught between breaths – are pressed closely together.

Magnus still doesn’t step back. Neither does Alec, but Magnus thinks this might be from shock recovery rather than a desire to stay in hold. If anyone walks by, it looks like they’re about to dance; waiting for the cue. It’s hilariously awkward, and Magnus wants to laugh. But Alec’s eyes keep him grounded; intense and focused.

“Hello,” Magnus purrs. "I don't think we've been formally introduced, despite the...formal hold."

The surprised dancer still isn’t stepping back. His hand is still wrapping around Magnus’ waist, and Magnus can feel each long finger pressing against his lower back. He almost shivers, but holds it back, swallowing instead.

There’s another pause, and the only sound comes from the occasional giggle from the class of students. One laughs loud enough to finally snap their teacher out of his daze. It’s long enough that Magnus starts to wonder if there’s something in his teeth, or if Alec is secretly made of tar and is stuck forever to Magnus.

_Oh, the horror._

Alec blinks a couple of times. He suddenly drops his arms quickly to his sides. He drops them so quickly that Magnus stumbles back, the weight holding him up suddenly disappearing. There’s distance between them now, but Magnus still feels Alec’s fingers wrapping around his. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together.

“I’m Magnus," he offers, glad that his voice shows no sign of being affected.

Alec scratches the back of his neck, his shoulders hunching again. Only this time, when he looks up, there’s a bashful smile on his face. Small, but sweet.

“Yeah. I…know who you are," he murmurs.

Izzy is right. Low voice. Gruff. A little bit sexy. Just the way Magnus likes them.

He hides the fluttering in his stomach behind a steel cage. _Be gone, feelings. Be gone._

Alec turns back to his class for a moment, as if suddenly remembering that other people exist – which Magnus finds endearing.

He hides his smile when Alec calls out, “Just…practise a box step again. I want to see bent knees, and heads to the left!”

When he turns back, again, he nods to Isabelle, who is standing to their right and watching the exchange go down with an aggravatingly obvious expression of glee.

Magnus clears his throat to refocus the attention. He doesn’t want Alec to die of embarrassment before they’ve had their first lesson.

“At least let me introduce myself properly.” And because he can’t help himself, Magnus bows. He’s not sure why. The drama of it all, perhaps. Or just that he wants to make a colourful impression on Alec, and bowing just seems…gentlemanly. He’s hoping it’s a graceful move, something to show Alec that he can move nicely, that he’s not a random hopeful with wide eyes who’s ready to kiss ass.

_I wouldn’t mind kissing his ass._

Magnus decides, quickly, that this is an unhelpful thought. Away it goes behind the wall again.

Although a few of the kids are still gawking at him - one kid actually snaps a picture on their phone - Magnus realises that he’s only waiting for one person’s reaction. Alec’s. And he’s staring at the floor, and then at Magnus, and then at Isabelle, as if for help.

Normally one to make a good lasting impression, Magnus begins to fear that this is one of the worst entrances he’s ever made. Ever. And that’s including the time he drunkenly stumbled into his neighbour, Dot's flat, pointed at her now-husband, Mark, and yelled ‘dibs!’.

They’re good friends now. Dot, Mark, and Magnus.

Magnus straightens from his bow and smiles, looking up at Alec from beneath his lashes. “I’m Magnus Bane. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Just when he’s considering sticking his hand out, or just flat out running for the door, it’s suddenly Magnus’ turn to blink in surprise, because Alec smiles in return. It strikes Magnus as soft and beautiful in a way that has Magnus preening a little, like a cat. He can feel his hips swaying a bit and tries to steady his restless energy.

“Uh, hey,” Alec says. He inclines his head. “I’m Alec."

“Who?” Magnus asks cheekily.

The man gulps, and his face falls. “Alec. Alec Lightwood. I…dance. And teach. But, yeah, mainly dance.”

Magnus can’t hide his grin this time. “I was teasing," he says lightly, realising that Alec isn’t the kind of person who is often teased. At least, not by a gorgeous Asian man who just stumbled into his arms. “Of course I know who you are, _Alexander_.”

Perhaps it was a tad cruel to draw out Alec’s full name, but as soon as it leaves Magnus’ lips, it turns quickly from a tease to a low sigh. Slightly breathless. Definitely complimentary.

Normally, Magnus prides himself a little more than this, but Alec is beautiful and awkward and Magnus is weak.

Isabelle clears her throat. “So you met my brother," she calls out with a laugh, finally coming over to stand with them. “Well, the first one. I have two more, but that’s a story for later. First, big brother, Magnus here has a question for you.” She smiles sweetly, giving Magnus a nod.

Alec narrows his eyes then. He folds his arms across his chest, once again drawing Magnus' eyes to his muscles.

“Yes. I do.” Magnus clears his throat. He is here, after all, to do more than flirt with the cute guy. “I was wondering, hoping, even, that you would be my tutor. For dancing," he adds.

 _What else is he going to tutor you in, idiot?_ He can practically hear Catarina laughing, and Ragnor slow clapping.

Alec tilts his head to the side, brow furrowing. “You…need a tutor?" he asks carefully. "But I don’t dance Latin. Not like you.”

“And how do I dance, Alec?” Magnus asks. “Describe it," he invites, genuinely curious.

A light flush appears on Alec's cheeks, but he stands his ground. “I- I don’t know. Just…well. You dance well. And better than me, so why do you need a tutor?" His frown deepens. "And why me?”

“I don’t need a Latin tutor," Magnus explains. "I want to brush up on my Ballroom skills. I almost forgot what a lock step was, Alec." He has to swallow down his own embarrassment now, but Alec's presence isn't an uncomfortable one, and so Magnus just says, "I think Izzy’s toddler class can do _chasses_ better than I can!”

Alec hesitates. Frowns again. “So…you want to study Ballroom? Well, re-study. Why?”

“I want to win the Championships,” Magnus says simply. It's a bold move, to say outright that you want to try and kick your lovely not-tutor off his throne. 

The responding look he gets from Alec makes him wonder if he asked for an orgy. His eyes widen. “You want to…dance…?” Alec stumbles, making a vague gesture with his hands. He shakes his head and then repeats, “You want to dance in the Championships? But…entering in Ballroom?”

“Yes. I’m glad you’re keeping up, darling.”

Alec blinks.

_Pet names: bad. Noted._

Izzy – beautiful, wonderful, lovely, Izzy – steps in. She places an arm on Alec’s wrist and smiles. “Magnus needs a teacher, and a partner. I’m happy to match him with a free dancer, someone who can keep up.” She wiggles an eyebrow in Magnus’ direction, and he grins in return.

“And mom and dad are going to be fine with this?” Alec rolls his eyes, and it’s the first sign of pressure he’s seen from the guy. The tension in Alec's shoulders makes Magnus suddenly feel sad. He's well-versed in pressure, both self-given and by others. He kind of wants to invite Alec out to coffee. The urge to get to know him is weirdly powerful, given their new acquaintance. 

Magnus frowns. “They can’t kick me out for wanting lessons. Do you tutor privately, Alexander?”

“Yes, but-“

“And do you have slots available?”

“Yeah, but-"

Magnus nods, mainly to himself. “Then it's settled. Let’s get started. The qualifiers are in just over two months."

“Um.” Alec sighs again. He realises where they are again, and turns to his sister. “Izzy, could you…” He points to the class, who are descending into anarchy and dancing whatever the hell they want to. She nods, clapping her hands loudly and calling out instructions to the group.

Which leaves Magnus alone with Alec. Again.

The other man surprises him then. He doesn't protest, only swallowing before asking, "Just one question. Why me?"

Magnus waits, unsure of what to say. It's not like he made the active decision to pick Alec, but now that he's here, Magnus finds him intriguing and actually trusts him - why, Magnus doesn't know. He's not got a lot of time to search elsewhere either. 

"You could have any tutor you wanted," Alec says, "and any School. Why do you want me to train you?"

Not liking the aura of ill-at-ease coming from the other dancer, Magnus smiles. “You come highly recommended," he tells Alec. "By your sister, and Clary, and many others I’m sure.”

Alec ducks his head. Again, that switch from confidence, to uncertainty is strange. Alec is a walking contradiction, one moment grinning and endearing, and the next, closed-off and stiff.

“Surely that doesn’t surprise you, Alexander," Magnus says, his voice quieting to a soft murmur. "You’re a talented dancer, and you clearly have no trouble getting handsy. I like that.” He winks, but keeps the teasing light, not wanting to push Alec away. 

“Oh, god," Alec groans, but laughs, shaking his head at the memory. "Sorry about…before. Earlier.” Alec shoves his hands into his pocket, but his eyes are still crinkling with laughter. “I didn’t mean to-“

“Hold me in your arms before you knew my name? You’re a fast mover.” Magnus grins back. When Alec just smiles, his dimples flashing, Magnus sighs. Perhaps now isn’t the time for flirting. Especially not if he’s trying to convince Alec that he’s going to be the best student ever.

“Alec, I know I haven’t made the best impression," Magnus says, "but…I’ll work hard. I promise." He lifts his chin and declares, "I just need someone who can drill me hard.”

Magnus shut up in a second.

Did his brain actually let that filter out into the open?

After a single second of shocked silence, Alec suddenly laughs. He covers his mouth for a second, but his laugh still escapes between his fingers. The sound may or may not tug at Magnus’ heart. And his lips, because great, now he’s beaming like an idiot because he made Alec Lightwood laugh.

“Okay," Alec eventually says. "Sure."

Magnus quirks an eyebrow.

“Not…that," Alec retorts dryly, making a vague hand gesture again. "I mean, dancing. Lessons. I’ll tutor you. While Izzy finds a partner for you," he confirms, jutting his head in his sister's direction.

Feeling the relief sooth his restless self, Magnus smiles. "Thank you," he says sincerely. Now that he has a tutor, and someone as wonderful as Isabelle on his side to partner-hunt with, the dream is closer to becoming a reality. 

Alec must see the change, because he smiles. “Would you like to start with two one hour sessions per week and build up?”

_Don’t make a joke. Don’t make a joke._

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Alec.”

Magnus praises his self-restraint. 

“We’ll, uh,” Alec looks down again, "talk about…payment later.”

Waving aside his concern, Magnus says, happily, "No need to be embarrassed about that. I have money." He quirks an eyebrow, making sure the next boast is seen as a joke. "I am a half-decent choreographer, you know," he teases. 

He waits for Alec to frown, or continue with the conversation.

Instead, his expression softens. "Yes," Alec says, "yes, I know." 

Magnus blinks, suddenly not sure where to look. He settles on the tiny scar on Alec's cheek, just above the corner of his lip, and then decides that staring at the guy's lips isn't helping him concentrate. Of course Alec knows who he is. Most of the dancing community does. But still, the way Alec says it, like admitting something, is more than an ego-boost. It's respect, and Magnus returns it warmly. 

"I also teach some classes at the community centres," he says. He's not boasting, really, but Alec's silence is intimate, and Magnus is taken aback by how good that feels. "Wait, is that going to be a problem?" Magnus asks. "Am I two-timing another studio?"

Alec cracks a grin. "No," he says, shoulders shaking a bit as he laughs. "If they don’t compete nationally, you’re good. It’s just community classes, right?” His eyes widen a fraction. “I didn’t mean it like that, but...if they’re not at professional standard – and that’s not your fault or anything, I’m not saying it is…”

Magnus holds up a forefinger, hovering against Alec's lips. "I understand," he says smoothly. "No harm done. And no, they don’t compete. It’s just for fun. Salsa, that’s all.”

“Salsa,” Alec repeats. “Never done that one before," he admits, but his eyes grow distant, like it's a little too far out of reach. 

“I’m shocked," Magnus deadpans, and Alec raises an eyebrow, meeting his challenge. He's gone from the slightly wide-eyed, awed man, to a confident, slowly smiling one. What the hell is Magnus going to do with him?

Well, he can think of many things-

“I should, uh, probably get back to teaching my class," Alec says, swiftly cutting through Magnus' daydreams. "But, it was really nice meeting you, Magnus. I, uh, I’ll see you for a class…?”

“Oh, right. Yes.” Magnus slides his cell phone out of his pocket and taps a few times. “Number?” he asks.

Alec is thrown for a moment, and alright, perhaps Magnus should’ve approached it a little more delicately. But he didn’t realise that asking for your teacher’s number was flirtatious. Even if he did grin at Alec when he said it.

Alec says the numbers slowly, and Magnus types them in, making a mental note to send Alec a quick text so he can save his number.

“Great. Text me, or call me,” Magnus says. "We'll arrange a date." Only a little grin accompanies it this time and Magnus mentally congratulates himself.

“Sure. I will. About the lessons.”

“Yes. About the _lessons_ , Alexander,” Magnus repeats, holding back his smirk. He calls out to Isabelle, “Great meeting you!”

She turns back, waves, and then starts demonstrating another step to the class.

Magnus waves at Alec, almost walking into the door again as he turns to flash Alec another smile. 

 _Lessons_ , Magnus decides, _cannot come soon enough._

As he walks to catch a cab, Magnus also realises - this time, with a soft, yearning gratitude - that he hasn't thought about Camille the entire time he's been here.

 

~

When Magnus leaves, Alec feels the ground returning. He can walk again. Talk like a normal person.

Not blush like a complete moron and stumble over his words in front of a pretty dancer.

He ignores the knowing look from Isabelle, a look that tells him to expect a proper talking-to later. He ignores the unfamiliar sensation in his chest; a tightening, but not painful. Almost…gripping. Like there’s a new pressure there that wants to be acknowledged. Alec doesn’t give it anymore attention.

Until his phone buzzes.

The unknown number pops up, and Alec can already feel a smile spreading across his face when he opens the message up:

 _Pretty boy, it was nice to meet you. Here’s my number. Call me about the dancing lessons and I’ll get back to you ASAP. Well, when I'm done choreographing for the Queen of England's birthday celebration. No big deal._ _Best wishes. – Magnus. Xo._

Alec shakes his head at the blatant lie, grinning. He's never met someone like Magnus before, and it keeps him in good spirits for the entire day.

And for the rest of that afternoon, all of his students seem to be faultless. He can’t find any reason to nit-pick, and he finds himself praising them a lot. Alec keeps smiling, and when Jace enters the room and stares in surprise, Alec realises that he’s still thinking about Magnus Bane.

He stops, but still, the day goes quickly; each second that passes filling with the sound of a musical laughter, and a brilliant grin.

He's going to tutor Magnus Bane, and no doubt watch him take the crown at the Championships this year.

But why, Alec wonders, does he keep picturing himself standing next to the guy?


	2. Qualifiers: Come Away With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training, bonding, and qualifiers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all!  
> The response to this fic has been incredible, thank you to everyone who has shown their support! :)  
> I have a few videos I want to share (you can ignore, but i think they're great for immersing with the fic, tbh)  
> 1) this is the Waltz inspiration (song/story) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkK1Y8LYDlE  
> 2) this is some of the choreography/same-sex style dancing i'm going for: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WrS8EFnST28 (first couple)  
> Come find me on twitter @clockworkswan96, and tumblr - clockworkswans. I love hearing from you!  
> Happy reading! :)

_**(Songs used in the chapter: Come Away with Me by Norah Jones, and Mercy by Duffy)** _

* * *

 ~

“Wait, you’re agreeing?”

“Within reason, Alec, yes.”

_This is unexpected._

The look Izzy gives her brother from across the table says the same thing.

“There are conditions we…encourage you to follow, however,” Maryse adds, and beside her, Victor nods, his look of cool disinterest just as telling as Maryse’s sharp words.

They’re sitting around the table in the principal of the dance school’s office, and Alec and Isabelle have been invited to meet with their mom and the vice-principal, Victor Aldertree, to discuss Alec’s new student.

Alec is mildly impressed by how much fuss Magnus has caused already. Students have been clamouring to meet him, and it only takes a week for word to get out to Maryse; that a Latin dancer is not only roaming the halls of her School, but, in fact, is soon to be tutored by her son.

It shouldn’t surprise Alec, either, that his mom wants to take full advantage of the publicity in this, as well as set some ground rules.

“The Board has encouraged all Schools to support this new...rule,” she chooses the word after a moment’s thought, lips curling in disapproval, “and we’re going to. Would I have chosen Magnus Bane to represent our School? No. But you didn’t give us much of a choice there.”

Alec swallows, glancing across at Izzy, before looking down again. It’s not like Isabelle forced him to tutor Magnus, but Alec didn’t exactly insist otherwise. He’s quite happy to, in fact, but he keeps this fact to himself and lets Maryse continue on.

“If Magnus wants to compete under our School, he can. He’ll bring publicity, and we can manage that to show _The Clave’s_ obedience. We’re being…inclusive.”

 _You’re being forced to be inclusive,_ Alec wants to clarify. Now it’s his turn to hide his anger, but his temper flares up, just for a moment. It’s unfair that his mom is only complying with the rule change to suck up to the board, not because she thinks it’s a good idea. If there was a vote, Alec is sure that Maryse would easily voice her bitter opinions about same-sex dancing. But because the board have agreed, so will she.

She confirms this by saying, “Tutor that man all you like, and find him a decent partner, but you’ll have no more involvement than that,” Maryse instructs. “Is this clear?” She directs this question to her daughter, and Isabelle nods, no doubt holding back her temper as well.

“Of course, mom,” Izzy says.

After another awkward second passes, Victor looks pleased with their compliance, inclining his head. 

“And his production team?” Alec then asks, unable to help himself. “Choreographer? Music? Costume?”

Maryse narrows her eyes, like he’s already overstepped by asking a simple question.

“I’m sure a man like Magnus Bane is quite capable of handling that himself,” Victor speaks this time, smiling. “Don’t you?”

Alec nods, saying nothing else. The message is clear: they’ll do the bare minimum and hope Magnus goes away, or gives up. They'll hope he puts on enough of a show to represent the School positively. Nothing more.

_He’ll be a charity case._

Alec grits his teeth, bile rising in his throat. He shouldn’t be getting this worked up anyway. What’s it mean to him if Magnus succeeds or not? He likes the guy, yes, but he has his own routines to worry about.

“So, we’re done here,” Maryse says, smiling now that she’s gotten her way. “You’ll tutor our new dancer, but no more than that. I’m sure he’ll be fed up by the qualifiers anyway.”

“Yeah,” Alec says, barely acknowledging the words. What Maryse and Victor have just proved – that they don’t support same-sex dancing in the slightest - sort of makes Alec want to aggressively support the rule. He supposes he’s already doing that, just by supporting Magnus.

He sits up straighter. “Clear,” he agrees. The lie settles against his ribcage, like someone is tickling him and he doesn’t know whether to push them away, or let them, and give in to laughter.

Maryse nods, apparently pleased with the conclusion. “In the meantime, you will prepare for the quarter-finals. April is fast approaching and you and Lydia must have your routines mastered by then. Have you spoken with Raj yet?”

“Yeah, we’re getting there.” Alec nods, but hides a wince at the mention of their choreographer. Raj is talented, but they don’t get along, and it’s just another reason why Alec is looking forward to tutoring someone like Magnus, one of those rare people who you just enjoy being around.

“That sounds like a start, I suppose. And Isabelle, you and Meliorn are progressing?”

Izzy nods.

“Entering you both individually this year means double the chance of winning, but,” Maryse glances at Victor as she pauses, and he nods, “we think it’s a good idea if you, Isabelle, enter in the Silver rank. Alec, you’ll be dancing in the Gold.”

“W-what? But that means I’m competing against Magnus-“

“And?” she interrupts. He silences quickly after noticing her frown. “It’s Magnus’ first time competing in Ballroom," Maryse reminds him, her tone flat. "He’s not a threat. Settling for second or third will get him all the attention he wants, yes?”

Alec bites his tongue. He’s not known Magnus long, but the confident air he carries around shields the depths of his heart from people like Maryse. He knows that Magnus wants to win for the right reasons. What’s so bad about that?

Again, he just nods. “Of course.”

“Then we’re done here,” Maryse says, smiling now that she’s content with the conclusion. “Victor, thank you for taking time out of your day.”

“Anything to support my fellow dancers,” he says, and the charming grin is almost enough for Alec to trust him, but he doesn’t. Not when Victor’s eye for victory is just as single-minded as Maryse’s.

Muttering a halfhearted goodbye, Alec is out of the door before his anger can rise any further. He stalks down the hallway, finding himself at the reception area, the main door to his back. He looks ahead, focusing on the class happening inside the nearest room. The kids are happy as the twirl about. The smiles they wear are joyous, carefree.

 _When do we lose that?_ Alec wonders. _Why do we lose it?_

Competitive dancing is a difficult sport, mentally and physically, but athletes give themselves one hundred percent. Alec always has done, too, but recently, he keeps wondering if he's hit a wall of sorts. 

The only thing that's triggered this - that Alec can think of - is the new rule. But then that would mean...

_Am I interested in that?_

He's interested in guys. Alec knows this, at least, but _dancing_ with a guy - even one he's not attracted to - does feel odd. It's fighting against years of what he's been taught to see as normal. 

He's still thinking about this - well, trying not to - when his jacket pocket vibrates. Digging out his cell phone, Alec ignores the tiny lurch his heart gives as the caller ID flashes up onscreen. 

Glancing around once, Alec lifts the phone to his ear.

“Alexander,” the voice on the other end greets, silky smooth and light. "Good afternoon." 

“Uh, hey, yeah, Magnus, what’s-what’s up?”

 _Great job_ , he thinks. Distracted, Alec shakes his head, trying to make sure the next words are more put-together. His mind is jumbled, but it's not Magnus' fault. He's actually feeling some of the tension slipping away, now that the guy has phoned. Alec doesn't dwell on why Magnus calling puts him in such a good mood.

“So, I checked my calendar," Magnus says, "and I seem to mainly be free on Tuesday evenings, Thursday mornings, and most day on Saturday." There's a pause, and then he adds - a smile in his voice that Alec finds relaxing - "Any of those days work for you?”

“Hm. Whichever,” Alec offers, thinking it over. His timetable is often negotiable, so he says, “I can work around you.”

“How’s Tuesday sound? To start with?”

“Great,” Alec says, “it sounds great.” He suddenly pauses, remembering. “Uh, Magnus," he says, "Tuesday is _today_.” As he stares ahead, the glass wall of the classroom reveals the shape of a figure standing behind Alec; tall, hand held up to an ear. 

“I’m delighted you’re not just a pretty face,” Magnus says, but his voice doesn’t carry from the phone this time.

Spinning around on the spot, Alec blinks in surprise, caught unaware by the dancer's sudden appearance. Magnus is standing there, shoulders shimmying and lips smirking at him, and Alec is - reasonable, he defends - speechless. It's a valid reaction, he thinks. For a moment, he just stares. Magnus is dressed in smart black pants and a deep purple blouse, a handful of necklaces peeping out. His formal jacket reaches his hips, the snug fit curving around his shaped muscles. His eyes are lined, and the muted gold glitter corners catch the light. His sports bag is draped over one shoulder, and he stands there waiting, grinning charmingly. 

“Magnus, you’re here,” Alec says, ignoring that his voice sounds unreasonably breathless. He clears his throat to hide the cough of surprise. “I, uh, hey, how are you?”

“I'm great,” Magnus says, winking as he repeats the word like Alec did moments before. He lowers his phone, finally cutting off the call. He slips it into his pocket, and Alec decides to use those few seconds to do the same. But now he has nowhere to put his hands. 

Alec keeps them by his sides, studying Magnus as subtly as he can. Did he notice that Magnus had such a nice physique before? Well, the last time, he was probably too busy covering up their awkward first meeting. 

“Sorry for the short notice," Magnus says, looking up at him, "but a client cancelled, and I thought I’d swing by and see if you were free. And,” Magnus pauses, sidling closer, smiling, “you are?” he asks sweetly.

He's right in Alec's space, but for some reason, he doesn't want to back away. 

"I am, yeah."

"Perfect," Magnus says happily, stepping back smoothly. 

Alec is taken aback by how endearing Magnus’ little gestures are; the cock of his head, the way his eyes study Alec in a way that’s not judging, but curious. He's trying to force himself to act unaffected, but he’s covering it badly.

Really, the guy is just too suave for his own good.

“Training room three is free,” he says, after a slight pause. His tone is flat, harsh to Alec’s ears. Still, it’s better than being a stuttering mess, which he’s sure Magnus could manage to make him into if he flashes another winning smile.

“Wonderful. Shall we?” Magnus invites him down the corridor of his own School, wrist flicking out to point out the direction, which has Alec ducking his head and laughing. He doesn't try and hide it, and Magnus' expression turns victorious. 

He’s about to reach for Magnus, when he pauses. His hand hovers in the air.

He quickly points instead. “Uh, yeah. This way. Please.”

He’s remembering that he’s a tutor, not a friend. Although, his brain suggests, it’s not like he can’t be both.

Alec realises that yes, he’d really, _really_ like that.

~

Magnus is oh so glad he chose the right outfit. Tight-fitting pants, a snug, long-sleeved smart shirt- with the first few buttons undone, of course - and Alec is his. Well, not his, but he's certainly interested. He catches Alec eyeing him up when he thinks he's being subtle. Magnus hides his smirks, but Alec is a grown man and can handle some flirtations, he's sure.

He won't cross the line either, respecting the dancer far too much to make things uncomfortable.

As soon as they get into the training room, it's just the pair of them, footsteps echoing in the newfound quiet. Alec shrugs out of his jacket, leaving him in an equally tight-fitting white shirt.

Perhaps Magnus isn't the only one surrendering to a few secretive looks. He certainly doesn't feel victorious anymore, because now he's hungrily studying Alec's frame. The dancer's shoulders are broad, his chest making the shirt ripple pleasantly when he breathes out. Alec rolls his sleeves up halfway, the gesture preparing for the training ahead, but to Magnus, it just gives him another reason to be thankful for today. 

He's been looking forwards to this for a week now, getting to see Alec again. 

And dancing. Obviously.

Alec turns to him. He wrings his hands together, the display awkward, but sweet. 

“I’m guessing that you don’t need me to teach you about frame and posture,” Alec says. His gruffness has a charm to it, Magnus realises. It’s honest and lilting; a bit sarcastic, but not rude.

He nods. "I think we're good," he agrees. 

"Okay. Then I'll start by taking you through a Silver routine. We'll go through the Waltz and Quickstep today, see what you remember, and what you don't?"

"Wonderful. I'll trust your judgement, Alexander."

Alec blinks, like he wasn't expecting to hear that, but then the brief surprise goes away. He smiles, holding out a hand.

"Okay," Alec repeats. "Let's begin." 

~

An hour and a half later, they're both sweaty and worn-out, but the session has been, in a word, thrilling. The first time Alec slides his arm around Magnus' waist, he's a changed man. He's focused and confident, and Magnus feels his own professionalism kick back into place. Alec might be beautiful and frustratingly kissable, but he's one of the best tutors that Magnus has ever had. 

Magnus is surprised by how easily the dances come back to him. Memories of old training sessions return to him, and with Alec's precise teachings, he's feeling more and more hopeful as the seconds go on.

After doing a complete circle of a Quickstep routine, Magnus pulls back, breathless, and asks, "Drink break?" He points to the water bottles on the nearby bench. 

Running a hand through his unruly hair, Alec's face breaks out into a grin. "Finally," he teases. 

Pleasant surprise rushes through Magnus. "Were you testing me, Alexander?" he asks, gaping at Alec's guilty look. He's trying to work him out, but so far, he's a marvellous puzzle. He's someone who knows his stuff, but feels distant at times as well. He's intrigued, and also impressed that Alec dared to push him already on the first lesson.

"Yeah. Most students crack in the first hour," Alec reveals. "I'm impressed." He heads over to the bench, taking a seat and holding up Magnus' bottle. Magnus takes it with a small smile, taking a long gulp. 

Settling a foot on the bench - to retie the laces on his shoes - Magnus peers up at Alec, cocking his head to study him again. He holds his gaze for a long moment, but breaks away first, leaving Magnus to work out if he's disappointed or relieved by this. 

"So," Alec asks conversationally, "how many dance partners have you had?"

Magnus senses that he wants a break, and he's more than happy to help. He sits down on the bench beside Alec.

"Including Camille?" Magnus asks. "Hm, let's see." He thinks over all the amateur competitions, the pro ones, and the occasional long-term partner, and then nods. "Seventeen," he says.

Alec reacts oddly, jumping back to look at him. He blinks a couple of times. "S-seventeen?" he repeats. "Oh, whoa, uh, that's..."

He lets out a slow whistle. "A lot," he finishes quietly. His expression is unreadable, and it makes Magnus suddenly feel on-edge, anxious about his past.

"Why?" Magnus asks, trying not to make it sound harsh. Still, he narrows his eyes. "I don’t skip from one to the other, if that’s what you’re implying."

Alec quickly shakes his head. “No, I just…I’m not used to that." When he speaks again, Alec's voice is softer, far away. "I’ve only ever danced with Isabelle, or Lydia. People I trust.”

“I trust my partners,” Magnus says carefully, not sure what Alec is getting at. But the hint of vulnerability in Alec's words tells Magnus not to do any judgement on his own behalf. 

After a long pause, Alec hunches over, staring down at the water bottle between his hands. "You're so different from me, I guess," Alec says. The wistful way he says it isn’t pained or angry, but rather dream-like. “I’m stunted, I guess,” he huffs out.

Fearing that he's come across as defensive, Magnus chooses his next words carefully. He's aware that Alec is talking about more than dancing now. He should've seen that beforehand. There's a reason the other dancer isn't meeting his gaze, after all. 

“Different is good,” he argues softly. Alec just shrugs, fiddling with the cap of the bottle.

Sensing that Alec is feeling out of bounds with the direction, Magnus places his own bottle back on the bench, stretching out his arms as he turns to face the still-sitting Alec.

“So,” he begins, “shall we get back to work?”

Alec nods. “Sure.”

When they call it quits half an hour later - making another appointment for a few day's time - Magnus leaves feeling satisfied, and also unsteady. He's thrilled that the lesson went well on a professional level, but there's a depth to Alec that he's not sure why he wants to see more of. 

He wants to know more about the guy. He wants to make him smile again, and talk more. 

 _Good thing you'll be spending more time together then,_ his brain helpfully chimes in.

~

And it's true.

Just like he thought after that first lesson, the thing about private lessons, Magnus realises, is that they leave a _lot_ of time for talking.

Despite the surprising heart-to-heart on the bench that one time, Alec isn’t much of a talker, not at first.

It takes him a few more sessions, but he does open up. Often, least when Magnus is expecting it. He’ll start to share a little story about his siblings, or explain his reasoning for teaching Magnus a certain step differently. Despite Alec's nervous energy, he's stubborn in the best way; not afraid to ask Magnus to repeat a step. 

Magnus also observes that Alec's temperament depends upon who’s in the room.

If Maryse ever comes in, Alec is stiff and unresponsive to any jokes. He'll only smile briefly, before returning to the tutor role. But when Izzy is here, or Jace, or Lydia, it’s different. He eases into the steps then, leading - or being led - without any tension in his expression. 

True to his word, Alec gets him up to Gold level in a matter of weeks.

On the second week, Magnus can do _weaves_ in and out of promenade position. He befriends _whisks_ , _chasses_ and his new favourite move, a step called the ‘ _curved feather hesitation_ ’. Putting it simply, it’s a fancy, slow half spin with crossover footwork, but the lower halves of the body stay together, with the top frame creating nice shaping. Both dancers lean back, and away, backs arching gracefully, but the hips stay together.

It’s a simple move, but it requires complete faith in your partner. Getting off-balance is easy, but Magnus is pleasantly surprised that even during the learning process, Alec keeps him upright, and balanced easily. There’s tension in the move too, but it’s elegant and flashy.

When they eventually get it right, Magnus is delighted.

Face flushed and sweat glistening against his lip, Magnus just beams at the other dancer. “You’ve unlocked something in me, you know,” he says. “I can’t explain it, but thank you, Alexander.”

Alec blinks, earnest surprise flashing across his features. His lips part to speak, but then he glances away.

Magnus didn’t mean it to sound…forward, but he’s incredibly pleased, and if he’s honest, undeniably happy, which isn’t something he’s felt in months. Certainly not this kind of proud, victorious pleasure, the kind that comes from working hard and actually enjoying it.

They get back into training a few moments later, but as Alec’s hand extends towards him, it’s Magnus who finds himself hesitating this time. He slides his palm across the other man’s, suddenly intently aware that a simple touch can say so much. It’s tentative. He didn’t mean it to be, but it is. Alec notices, swallowing slowly as he settles into Ballroom hold.

They run through all the Ballroom dances over the two weeks, sharpening Magnus’ footwork. They’ve run through all the dances, and Magnus is glad that he’s used to memorising steps, because Ballroom has just as many as Latin. He’s got a newfound appreciation for couples who enter in both styles. However, the fluidity he’s an expert in from Latin dances comes in handy. It turns into grace for the Waltzes, swift, precise steps for the Quickstep, and sharp, electric movements for the Tango.

Speaking of, the first lesson they have on mastering the Tango, happens on the second week. It's a quiet, Thursday afternoon. Magnus concentrates, hard, refreshing his mind on all the steps. When he’s ready to go, Alec offers out a hand, ready to take him into hold again so they can rehearse it together.

The Tango embrace has slight differences. Whereas the other dances carry a balance between touch and distance, the Tango requires the two partners to touch from hand to ankle, chests touching and legs slipping carefully between the other’s. It’s always been one of Magnus’ favourite Ballroom dances.

In fact, when he tells Alec as much, the guy nods.

“I might’ve guessed.”

“What does that mean, Alec?” Magnus asks, voice teasing as he steps into the dancer’s space. He holds his gaze firmly, cocking an eyebrow. It's nice that he can tease Alec like this, and the dancer isn't afraid to roll his eyes or grin back. 

“Well, uh, it makes sense, you liking it," Alec mutters. "It’s a powerful dance. Strong, unyielding, but full of life. It’s, uh, quite magical,” Alec mumbles, scratching at his neck. He definitely breaks eye contact this time.

Magnus tries not to gape, but after a moment, he feels his cheeks start to hurt with how wide his smile becomes. It's been a while since someone thought he was magical.

_He meant the dance._

“So,” Magnus says breezily, sensing that the silence is turning uncomfortable, “lead me through it again?”

Alec nods, happy to return to the work.

It’s amusing, how his tutor is patient, but straight to the point. Alec speaks less, but he uses words that say a great deal. He speaks with gesture and smiles, and Magnus begins to think that they’re not as different as they first thought.

True, Magnus is bolder, but perhaps only on the surface. They’re both keen to get the best out of each other. That mutual understanding is what drives their lessons into the next level.

As he learns – well, re-learns – Magnus is pleased that the topic of who dances what steps gets cleared up. Right from the start, Alec doesn’t teach him ‘male and female' parts. He just says ‘A and B’. Magnus likes this, a lot. Although it’s a sign of change, that the Schools seem to be bringing into the teaching, Magnus knows that a lot of the other teachers hate it.

Trying to see the other side of it, Magnus agrees that it’s a big change. It _is_ breaking with tradition, but perhaps, they can have both. One day, the dancing community can reach a place where traditional man and woman partnerships can have interchangeable steps. Same-sex couples shouldn’t have to have a separate competition. They should be valued in the prestigious ranks too.

Things like 'one day' keeps Magnus' spirits high. And Alec's coaching. Alec teaches Magnus both parts too. Throughout the lessons, they’ll change hold sometimes, with Magnus slipping an arm around Alec’s waist, or his tutor mirroring the pose in their next lesson.

The important thing is that Magnus feels ready. With Alec’s teachings, he does.

“I’m sorry we haven’t found you a partner just yet,” Isabelle apologies, watching over their practise one early Tuesday morning. She’s teaching an over 50s class in a bit, her hair already tied up. Her heeled shoes click against the floor.

The qualifiers are in a few weeks’ time, the time fast approaching. Magnus is both anxious and excited that the event is coming up already.

He shakes his head, waving off the apology with a smile. “It’s quite alright,” he promises. He knows Isabelle won’t settle for anyone less than hard-working, and Magnus trusts her. The time doesn’t bother him either. In the past, he’s dealt with rearrangements and mishaps. Being a pro means dealing with these issues.

“How’s the choreographing going?” Izzy asks, coming to stand by the nearest bench. She starts to stretch out, slowly and carefully.

Alec is waiting for his answer too, gulping down some water in-between lessons.

Magnus’ lesson technically ended ten minutes ago, but he’s not keen to remind Alec of this. He likes the extension for many reasons, not just having more time to polish off, but to see the siblings together, or getting to spend time with Alec as a fellow dancer and friend, not just a tutor.

“Well,” Magnus says. “I’ve sent off staging details to the appropriate departments, and the backdrops and such are ready to go. Now I just need to teach my mystery man the steps,” he says lightly, trying not to dwell on that for too long. He’s pleased with the dance he’s created, keeping it simple, but with enough small moments to build character and charm the audience.

Actually, he’s been running a lot of the steps via Alec, who's more than happy to be used as a stand-in partner for a bit.

“I have to go,” Isabelle says, sighing. She gives Alec a quick kiss on the cheek, and again, winces slightly as she meets Magnus’ eyes.

“I really am trying, Magnus,” Izzy says quietly. “There’s just…Not many people are willing to be as…forthright, as you are.”

Magnus reads between the lines: there aren’t many dancers who want to stand up for the rule change. They don’t believe in it.

He smiles, a little thinly. “Thank you, dear,” he says, not wanting to take out his bad luck on the kind dancer. “Enjoy your class," he offers, watching her leave with a small smile.

 _She's a good egg, that one,_ he thinks.

When he turns back around, Alec is pushing up from the bench.

Not wanting to leave yet, Magnus asks, "How are you both doing?" He gestures to the door Izzy just left through. "Getting ready for your own dances, I mean? Isabelle said you’re…changing things up this Season.”

“Right, uh, yeah,” Alec confirms, nodding. “I’m partnering Lydia. Lydia Branwell. We’ve been friends for years now. I trust her.”

“Solid partnership,” Magnus says absently, “that’s…nice.” He ignores the odd, constricting sensation in his throat. It’s not like he’s met the girl, or knows whether she’s a good match for Alec. She might be an excellent dancer.

But he remembers Isabelle’s concerns; that the pair are far too rigid, unwilling to break from the norm, or stand out.

Against his will, Magnus finds himself worrying for Alec. If the guy is already under a load of pressure, what’ll be like if he doesn’t place, or qualify?

“Uh, Magnus?”

Blinking back to the present, Magnus finds Alec standing before him, eyes squinting.

“Hm? You were saying?”

“I just wanted to know your song choice, for the Waltz. No pressure, though. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Why? Tempted to steal my ideas?” he teases.

Fortunately, Alec knows he’s jesting, and a smirk matches with the glint in his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, “you caught me there. It’s the only reason I’m teaching you, to steal the glory.”

“I don’t know if I like this cocky side to you, Alexander,” Magnus says, giving him a mock-hurt look. He starts twirling a hand around his necklaces. He fiddles with them as he stares, unable to tear his eyes away from Alec’s unwavering look.

It's a lie. Magnus is rather attached to this side of Alec. If he's honest with himself, he likes a lot about Alec, not just the visually pleasing elements – although there are many. He enjoys his company. Even the silences hold more value than many conversations Magnus has shared with others. Alec brings something hidden out of him, not just in dancing, but simply by talking, and being close to him.

It isn't like any friendship Magnus has ever experienced before.

It didn’t even feel like friendship, or a teacher slash pupil relationship. They both seem to teach the other.

“Of course,” Magnus eventually says, heading for the raised stage platform, Alec trailing after him. "Let me find it. One second.”

Busying himself with connecting his music up to the surround system, Magnus squints. He's about to ask for help - Alec is peering down at him, over the edge, watching him curiously - but he finds the right connection cable soon after. Magnus steals another look up. The sleeves of Alec's black shirt are rolled up, and as he leans against the tabletop, the muscles strain against the material.

Magnus quickly glances down again, suddenly feeling nervous about playing the track. It’s not an unfamiliar song, but there’s a vulnerability to what he’s sharing.

He switches the track on, and smiles almost instantly, relaxing as the soft melody begins to sound out. He stands, but doesn't step down from the stage. There's the railing between them, and Magnus keeps that distance. He stays standing on the stage, resting his elbows over the ledge, mirroring Alec, who does the same, but a bit to the right. They don't stare at each other, but the closeness is unavoidable. 

The song starts. It fills the room with quiet longing and sweet promises, the woman’s voice gentle as she sings.

Alec is quiet as he listens, eyes closed, like he’s imagining the routine with it. Magnus smiles, allowing himself to watch him in secret. Fingers itching to touch him, Magnus grips one of his necklaces again instead. 

After a few moments, Alec re-opens his eyes and smiles. “Hm,” he says, looking mildly impressed, and surprised, “I like it. I didn’t think you’d go for this. It’s…”

“Normal?” Magnus says, narrowing his eyes.

“Uh, yeah, sorry if that came out wrong. I just…It’s old-school.” Alec follows this up with one of those trademark grins; guilty, but also not in the least. The smirk does something to Magnus. He knows Alec isn’t saying it to be rude, he’s just giving his honest opinion. Magnus has a feeling that Alec doesn’t do that often, or rather, doesn’t feel comfortable in doing so.

“Does the song have any meaning to you?” Alec asks, leaning further over as he looks up at Magnus. His arms are crossed, providing his chin with a resting place. He looks up, eyes locked onto Magnus.

Magnus’ hands dance across the CDs, something to distract him from how close Alec is standing.

“Yes, I suppose it does,” he admits. “I like that she wrote the song in a day. It’s simple and honest, and sometimes I like that. Not always,” he adds, dropping a wink in Alec's direction.

The guy chuckles, and Magnus continues to explain. “There are days when you need to drop the facade. Just…be yourself,” he finishes. He doesn’t mean to hold Alec’s gaze for too long, but he ends up staying quiet and staring.

“That sounds nice,” Alec eventually answers quietly. Magnus swears he’s smiling. It certainly sounds like he’s happy, or content at the very least.

“You should try it,” Magnus teases.

“Yeah. One day,” Alec mutters. He extends a hand. “Wanna run those steps by me again then?”

"With the music?"

"Uh, sure."

"Oh, okay, Alexander."

Swallowing down the rising hope that perhaps, with a prayer, and a divine intervention, he might get to dance with Alec in a competition, Magnus heads back onto the training room floor.

 _One day_ , he thinks to himself, _I’ll have this guy realising what he deserves._

And Magnus hopes he'll be around on that day, to see Alec in his rising glory, burning down all the competition.

Dancing the routine - _his_ routine - feels too good to be true, because afterwards, Magnus can't picture dancing it with anyone else.

He hides the ache in his chest, thanks Alec, and leaves soon after. 

~

“We’re done for the day, then, want to grab coffee? I have the afternoon free."

“I have a private lesson,” Alec apologies, offering Lydia a careful smile. Too wide, and it would give the wrong impression. Too little, and she’d ask who the pupil was who’s earned his dislike. He's been looking forwards all day to his lesson with Magnus. He doesn't want anything ruining his mood. 

“Oh, who?”

 _Damn it,_ Alec thinks, really hoping she’d not ask. He waits beside her in the training room as she changes shoes. 

“Uh, just Magnus. Magnus Bane," he says, "you know the guy, I'm sure." He's suddenly paying close attention to the wall beside his partner's head. 

“Do I know him,” Lydia repeats slowly, eyes widening, "are you serious? Alec, I’ve been dying to meet him,” she says happily, half-turning to the door like he’s going to walk in any second. Which he is.

Which is why Alec doesn’t want his partner here.

For some reason, the idea of Magnus and Lydia meeting feels…awkward. Alec can’t quite put his finger on why it does, but he’d rather keep the two as separate entities in his life.

“What’s he like?” Lydia asks. “Do you know him well?” Her eager excitement, against his will, makes Alec smile. A bit proudly, a bit nervously, but it’s a genuine smile.

“He’s a great dancer,” Alec answers honestly, stabbing a toe into the floor. “Good technique, creative mind, pushes himself without criticising his mistakes either. I’ve worked with professionals for years, but he’s definitely ahead of most.”

“You flatter me so, Alexander. Do I have to pay extra for that?”

_And of course he’s here._

Jumping a bit, Alec catches the other dancer walking in. Covering up his surprise, he rolls his eyes.

“Only if you keep showing up early,” Alec hastily retorts, but there’s no heat in it because he’s still smiling. He greets Magnus with a nod, the dancer placing his sports bag on the table. He’s about to say something else when Lydia darts forwards.

She extends a hand. “Magnus, it’s an honour,” she rushes out. “I saw you at the Latin Championships last year, and the year before that. You’re…great,” she finishes, a light flush spreading over her cheeks.

Magnus beams at her, shaking the offered hand with vigour. “Thank you, dear. And you must be Lydia. I’ve heard lovely things about you,” he assures her, although just for a second, Alec swears that Magnus’ eyes narrow, almost in confusion, like whatever he expected isn’t this.

It all clears up when Magnus snaps his fingers together, pointing at her. “I _have_ seen you before,” he exclaims cheerfully. “You were the girl near the front row, weren’t you? I hip swivelled at you,” he says.

Alec coughs abruptly. “You, uh, did what?” He’s not an expert in Latin, but 'hip swivelling' doesn’t sound like a move. Before he can stop himself, Alec’s eyes flicker downwards, resting on Magnus’ hips and legs, slowly studying him. It’s not like he’s going to find an answer in tight pants, but it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

“Oh, god,” Lydia lets out a laugh, half-embarrassed, but mainly pleased that Magnus remembers this apparently life-changing moment. “You did, yes," she agrees. "Not how I wanted to introduce myself to you, but sure.”

Magnus chuckles, his smile losing some of the uncertainty. He lets go of Lydia’s hand and adds, “Pleasure to meet you, too. Are your preparations going smoothly?” he asks conversationally.

Lydia is happy to take the lead, leaving Alec to stand by her side and hover. He nods, chiming in occasionally. But now that Magnus is here, he just wants to dance with the guy. And precious seconds are ticking by while they stand and small talk.

Alec is used to plastering on a fake smile, and burying what he really wants, so he waits. Impatiently, but hiding it.

“Right, I won’t take up any more of your time,” Lydia says after a few more minutes, before flashing Magnus another smile. “It really was lovely to meet you, Magnus. Good luck with the practises. You might even beat us,” she adds impishly, inclining her head towards Alec.

She leaves, and when the pair are left alone, Alec feels her last words linger in the silence. It’s not like they weren’t each other’s competitions beforehand, but now, the truth of it is catching up. He can’t avoid it anymore.

“So,” Magnus says, shrugging out of his navy peacoat. He’s only wearing a sleeveless hoodie underneath, strong muscles on full display today.

Still, Alec knows that despite the calm expression, Magnus is wearing something deeper than confidence. He’s determined, and that makes him dangerous. Especially when Alec can’t muster up an argument – even to himself – as to why he _doesn’t_ deserve to beat them.

He knows Magnus’ routine, can practically see the stage, and the set, in his mind. It’ll be a wonderful dance, if Magnus’ partner can dance it with equal charm. Magnus tells him that the simplicity in the choreography is deliberate. The Waltz routine is elegant, only broken up into sections by occasional small touches, or spins. His ingenuity create magic on the dancefloor, and Alec’s only seen the routine in progression. But he’s proud of it, like he’s seen Magnus take it from an idea, to a story, and a victory.

Magnus is doing the impossible: finding the balance between playing by their rules, and bringing his own style in.

“What’s wrong, Alec?” Magnus asks, clearly misinterpreting Alec’s awed silence.

“Oh, I was just thinking about your routine. Did you ever think about putting the _lock step_ before the _reverse turn_? It would flow better.”

“No,” Magnus admits slowly, eyes flickering across Alec’s face, “I didn’t.” The left corner of his mouth twitches, before surrendering to a smile. “Demonstration?” he asks, cocking his head in the direction of the floor.

He walks backwards, holding Alec’s gaze, and then lifting a hand, crooning with a finger.

Alec laughs to cover up the tugging sensation in his chest - which maybe comes from the fact that a very enchanting man is smiling at him like he’s worth the time and attention, and worth the confusing feelings that come with whatever this is.

 _Is it friendship?_ Alec wonders.

It’s not like the guy isn’t attractive enough to be _more_. Alec admits easily that Magnus is beautiful, not just as a dancer, but as a person; as a kind soul with something magnetic, unique and enchanting in him. He carries it from within, and Alec keeps getting drawn in, further and further.

But considering that _more_ means the risk of overstepping, Alec holds back. Exploring what he desires isn’t what he’s here to do. He can’t afford to be selfish, not when there’s a lot at stake.

_Maybe after-_

Alec silences that thought, but allows himself to smile as he steps into hold with Magnus. This, the dance, and the simple rightness of it, is what Alec can surrender to. He can tell himself that it’s okay to feel, and okay, because it’s just the dance.

 _It's just the dance,_ he repeats.

_Right?_

~

During the next lesson, the way Alec lies to himself comes back to bite him in the ass.

Isabelle comes rushing in, smiling widely, and not apologising in the slightest for barging in.

She comes up to them, beaming from ear to ear and announces, “Mom said I could dance Latin next year,” she says excitedly, “ _if_ I place first this year.”

Alec narrows his eyes, but the suspicion is directed towards their mom, not his eager sister. It actually stings to realise that the only way Maryse agreed to this is because she feels Izzy won’t, in fact, place first. She’s certain her daughter won’t win, which once again adds more stress onto Alec’s plate.

If he doesn’t win, then they’ll both be in the doghouse. However, as Alec studies Isabelle’s face, finding the joy contagious, he can’t help but offer congratulations.

“That’s great, Iz,” Alec says. “I’m pleased for you.” Because if anyone can win to prove someone wrong, it’s Isabelle.

Trust the two people he’s spending the most time with to now be fighting twice as hard as the others. It rubs on Alec, and he finds himself feeling happier than usual. Lighter. Prouder. 

Shuffling her feet, Isabelle tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes betray her, quickly flicking to Magnus, who’s talking to a client on the phone. They sometimes have to take small breaks like this, so that Magnus can make appointments, or turn down a reporter’s eager invitation for an exclusive interview.

“Alec,” Isabelle tentatively begins, “do you think he’d dance with me, if I asked?”

Catching on quickly, Alec huffs, cracking a smirk. “Living the dream, huh?” Before she can narrow her eyes, he adds, “Ask him yourself, Iz, I’m not his keeper.”

He laughs when her face falls a bit. “Go on,” Alec encourages, giving her a nudge.

She remains still, grinning sheepishly. Her unusual hesitation moves Alec to stand closer. He offers her a supportive smile, walking her over towards the other dancer, who's done with his phone call and watching them approach. 

“Magnus,” Alec begins, trying to hide his guilty grin – but Isabelle’s adorable excitement threatens to crack his composure. “My sister has a question for you.”

“Oh, is that so?” Magnus stands up, stretching out his arms. “Ask away, Isabelle.”

“Would you dance with me?”

Blinking a couple of times at the sudden request, Magnus then nods. “I’d be honoured,” he replies smoothly, turning to head onto the floor, “do you want to do a Waltz or-“

“Oh, Latin, I mean,” Isabelle interrupts, catching up with him.

Alec watches the exchange with a grin, unable to stop from teasing, “She’s got a thing for it.”

Looking over her shoulder, Izzy responds with an innocent smile. “We’ve all got our _things_ , don’t we?”

Magnus doesn’t say anything to this, toying with the zip on his hoodie, but he does blink slowly again, casting a quick look in Alec’s direction. His Adam’s apple bobs low in his throat when he swallows. Alec follows the movement for a few moments, before turning away. He doesn’t say anything to Isabelle’s tease, just hops onto the music deck stage to plug in the song Isabelle instructs him to put on.

He kneels to put the CD case back in place. As he does, the floor below, and the dancers, disappear from view for a few seconds.

Alec pushes back onto his feet, still standing on the raised stage, turning up the music dial and waiting for the song to begin. He’s actually curious to watch the dance. He might’ve seen Magnus dance Latin through video recordings, but this is different. It’s right in front of Alec, the music, the energy, and the fire.

By the time he glances up, Isabelle is all ready to go.

Magnus is, well, without a shirt.

Alec isn’t sure what he did to deserve a shirtless Magnus Bane dancing in his studio, but maybe he saved orphans in another lifetime.

The guy has shrugged out of his hoodie, discarding it onto the bench. He stands with a smirk, the muscles in his chest tightening as he pushes out. No one could doubt the dancer’s strength, and Alec finds himself studying the toned muscles. The two dancers are standing close, talking too quietly for Alec to hear, which also helps. While they talk through the steps together, Alec can follow the movements of Magnus’ muscles. He can examine the sharp rotations of his hips, watch how his forearms tighten and relax.

_It’s just a shirtless guy. Nothing new._

He reminds himself that he’s seen many, though it’s not really a Ballroom thing to strip. He gets that Latin is…hotter.

Alec’s cheeks are burning by the time the pair start to dance their Cha Cha Cha. The music is fun, the lyrics and beat equally seductive. Magnus seems to know this, and shapes the song into the dance, dipping Isabelle slowly, before lifting her leg around one of his hips.

They’re great together, Isabelle and Magnus. There’s nothing awkward about their chemistry, just two exceptional dancers helping show each other off. They smile and laugh, and Magnus keeps murmuring steps into Izzy’s ear, making her grin and nod, before attempting them.

Alec himself has no idea what half the moves are called, but they’re precise and energetic, balancing steps and hesitations in a mesmerising way.

He gulps down another swig of water before daring to look up again, curling his fingers around the wooden ledge. The cool wood meets his clammy palms. Alec swallows, but can’t seem to look away from the dancers. He tries to look at the pair, and enjoy the dance, but his eyes keep focusing on Magnus instead.

The lie he’s driven into himself rises up with the music. His feelings _are_ in check. He’s steady and focused. He’s-

- _screwed_.

Really screwed.

Because Magnus, for the last few bars of the song, is holding his gaze. His chest is covered with a thin sheet of glistening sweat. His pants ride low on his hips – hips that captivate Alec, make him wants things he didn’t think to consider before now. Magnus opens up desires that aren’t just born from fierce attraction, but from the hint of something deeper too. On the one hand, Alec imagines pulling him in for a bruising, hard kiss, but then the idea of slow dancing, or hearing him laugh, feels just as intimate.

As the song comes to an end, Alec admits that yes, he might have a crush on Magnus. Just a bit.

It’s good that he’s worked it out, Alec thinks quickly to himself. He can be sure that the emotions won’t distract him.

When the song fades naturally, Isabelle and Magnus give each other a high five, pausing for breath. Alec takes the brief time to get himself in check. He steps down from the stage to greet them, hoping his fake smile is convincing. It's not like he's just experienced a mild heart attack. Even though it does feel like he's survived an impossible challenge. 

Up close, Magnus’ skin is sweaty and shiny. His hair is sticking up slightly, but he must be content enough, because he looks up and offers Alec a devastatingly slow smile.

Alec doesn’t ask for a high five, but he doesn’t know what to say. Is he supposed to say something? Or just play the stern tutor, and break up the fun?

Luckily, Izzy steps in, and grins up at Magnus. “How’d that feel?” Isabelle asks, a hopeful look on her flushed face.

Magnus cocks his head to the side, and then admits, “Very good, my dear.” He gives her a nudge with his elbow. “You’re quite the showstopper, you know. I hope you get to dance Latin professionally sometime."

“Perhaps,” Isabelle mutters, just slightly audible. Alec catches it, and his stomach ties itself in knots again. It’s one thing for her to say this to them, but what if their mom was around? They have to stay loyal to the School, now more than ever.

“ _Pandemonium_ is looking for female dancers, you know,” Magnus offers. “You should go along to some of their sessions, consider signing up for next Season?” He catches Alec frowning, and holds up a hand.

“Scandalous talk, forgive me,” he says lightly, but he gives Isabelle another smile. “You can dance in both, you know, but anyway, thank you, for the dance.”

Isabelle jumps as her phone rings, plucking it from her jacket, holding it up.

“Sorry,” she apologies, “I’m chasing up a lead for you. See you later,” she says, giving Alec a quick smile in farewell before disappearing through the doors.

Magnus shrugs his hoodie back on, and a knot in Alec’s chest relaxes, but then tightens again. The yearning inside him is frustration. He didn’t mean to feel this way for a friend.

 _It’s just attraction,_ Alec reminds himself. _It happens all the time._

But not for Alec, who’s – until now – found it easier to dismiss his heart.

“So, ready to begin?” he asks, determined to remain professional. It’s not Magnus’ fault, and he won’t act out against the poor guy for being unfairly beautiful.

But as Magnus smiles, fiddling with his ear cuff and nodding, Alec swears the gesture is almost _coy_. Not that he knows anything about flirting.

He decides to let someone else judge that, and focuses on the lesson instead.

“Right, let’s start from the corner crossover step…”

~

An hour later and the lesson comes to a natural close.

Alec is proud to admit that Magnus is one of the best pupils he’s ever taught. He’s never enjoyed teaching someone as much as he has with the other dancer, but it’s also because he learns in return. Magnus approaches the steps with new perspectives. He invites Alec to think in other ways and adapt traditions.

They start to practise switching holds halfway through, finding natural ways to transition from the typical male and female given lead-and-follow patterns. The dance becomes a conversation, rather than instructions.

“You done teaching for today?” Magnus asks in friendly conversation. He’s zipping up his sports bag, glossy, black shoes now replaced with sneakers. Magnus somehow always manages to look elegant and casual during training sessions, wearing tight-fitting blouses and formal shirts, but with colour and patterns that just _work_. He’s not just a graceful dancer, he’s a graceful mover in general.

“Uh, no,” Alec says, shaking his head. “Well, I’m done teaching, but I have a rehearsal with Lydia later on, so I’ll probably stick around and practise.”

“On your own?” Magnus asks, frowning.

“Yeah,” he admits, the answer sounding lamer than he meant it to. Instead of dwelling on it for too long, Alec asks, “Do you live far?”

It’s a simple question, but Magnus smiles warmly, and Alec is encouraged, glad that they speak like friends as well as professional sportsmen.

“Not too far. Just a short walk past Brooklyn Bridge,” Magnus says.

“You’re walking?” Alec asks, quirking an eyebrow. And then he remembers something Magnus mentioned in passing a couple of days ago. “Oh, your car is still in service, right?”

Before Magnus can answer, Alec adds, “Do you want a ride?”

“Oh,” Magnus says, voice softening, honey-like and warm. It stays with Alec even in the silence.

After the initial surprise, Magnus replies, “That would be lovely, Alec. Thank you.”

They head out of the School’s main building together, heading around the back towards the carpark. Climbing into the front, Alec realises that he hasn’t told anyone where he’s going, although, on second thought, he doesn’t need to. It’s perfectly fine to drive a friend.

Still, for a moment, his mother’s frown flashes across his mind. There’s that sensation of falling, and fearing that no one’s going to be there helping him up-

“Alexander, this is just a suggestion, but I believe you have to put the key in for the engine to start.”

Magnus' light tease is matched with a small smirk, and Alec grabs onto it, pulling himself back to the present.

He rolls his eyes, covering up the fumble. “Right. I figured.” As he focuses on pulling out and getting onto the streets without further zoning out, he glances outside. Overhead clouds darken the sky, and although he didn’t feel much of a breeze outside, rain threatens to spill at any moment.

“So,” Magnus begins, about halfway through the journey, “are you ready for the qualifiers? Partner changes can be a lot to get used to. Believe me, I know. How are you holding up?”

Glad for the distraction, Alec shrugs. “It is how it is. I get why the School and my parents are doing it. It makes sense.” He thinks, glancing over at Magnus during the next set of red lights.

“Magnus,” he says quietly, waiting until the guy is turning to face him. When Magnus nods, urging him to go on, Alec asks, “Why…Why did Camille change partners? I mean, uh, I just don’t get it. Why would she give you up? As a partner,” Alec adds hastily. The lights turn green and he turns his attention back to the road.

For a moment, he worries that he’s overstepping, that Magnus will shut him out. But after another few seconds, the other man lets out a quiet noise, thoughtful and honest.

“I guess I wasn’t interesting enough for her anymore,” Magnus says tightly. He lifts a hand, absently skimming his fingers across the window. “Camille sees people as toys to go through. I always hoped I could be one that would last…well, as you said before, it is how it is. Life happens,” Magnus breezily says.

Before Alec can express his sympathies – or anger, he’s not sure which yet because _who the hell does that to someone?_ – Magnus angles himself to face him.

He eagerly asks, “What did you make of the dance earlier? I never had the chance to ask.” He can hear the tease in Magnus’ voice again as he asks, “Different, hm?”

Alec laughs, the sound catching halfway in his throat. He knows that Magnus is still looking, quietly studying him. “Oh, yeah. Very different. But…I liked the control. Although it’s faster, there’s still controlled rhythm and rotations. It’s not so different,” Alec admits, surprising himself as well. “Except for the…freedom.”

A rumble escapes from the clouds above, and a light rain drizzles down, gently hitting the car as they drive.

Magnus nods. “Not really your forte is it, Alexander?”

“The work is easier if you don’t get attached.”

“That’s a lonely life,” Magnus says quietly. “Is there…anyone special?”

“No,” Alec says. “but I’ve not exactly been looking,” he admits flatly. “There’s no time for distractions.” It’s a lame excuse, and Magnus persists, but not rudely. His tone always remains gentle.

“One day?” Magnus asks. “Relationships aren’t mandatory in life, you’re right, but you should grant time for the things you care about. If you find someone.” He then points ahead, to a block of apartments, “Just up here.”

Alec parks up, and then sighs as the rain keeps on going. They sit quietly together for half a minute, waiting.

“It’s really not gonna slow down, is it?”

Ahead, the tall block of apartments greets them, warm-brown brick and glass windows. The area they're in is pretty, tall trees lining the streets with pink blossoms. Still, the rain continues to pour down.

Magnus shrugs, gathering up his bags from the space under his feet. “It’s half a minute," he says, "I can get wet."

He didn’t even say it with a smirk, but Alec feels an odd, swelling sensation in his chest. His knee juts up, hitting the glove compartment, and it jolts his memory.

“Oh, uh, one sec,” he mutters, and before Magnus can protest, Alec pushes open his door. He hurries out of the car and comes around to tug open the boot. The umbrella that Jace left in the car last time is still there, and he smiles, pleased. Alec grabs it, and quickly rushes around to Magnus' door, opening up the umbrella to battle against the falling rain. 

Pulling open the door with one hand, Alec bends down slightly, waiting. 

Magnus does a quick double-take, glancing up. He smiles, reaching for his bag and climbing out of the car. He’s in Alec’s space again, the rain trickling down around them, and it's a moment that wraps around the pair, connecting them. 

“Such a gentlemen,” Magnus teases, linking his arm through Alec's, fingers curling around his forearm. 

Alec rolls his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a grin. He doesn’t want this to be weird. Why can’t he hold an umbrella up for his friend?

“Yeah, well, I’d hate for your hair to get ruined,” Alec jokes, gesturing to the newly-coloured tips.

Magnus just continues to beam up at him. His lashes have caught a bit of rain, and Alec stares at the droplets for a few seconds. It's a simple gesture. At least, it had been, until Magnus slips the arm through his, and Alec suddenly feels intensely aware of everything happening. They're still standing beside the car, neither of them moving, so Alec clears his throat, and pulls them from the curb.

"Come on," he mumbles, "I can't be too long."

They take the short walk in silence, but it's far from uncomfortable. They're just sharing the sidewalk comfortably, walking together up to Magnus' block, the umbrella shielding them from the rain. 

When they reach the door, and Magnus turns to face him, Alec holds it a little higher so he can properly see him.

"Thank you for the lift, Alexander," Magnus says, voice undeniably soft. His expression is thankful, but also open in other ways. He's standing close, lips parted slightly, and Alec gets the feeling that he wants to ask him something. He opens his mouth-

"I'll see you on Saturday," Alec blurts out. He's gripping the umbrella so tightly that he can feel his knuckles straining. 

Magnus doesn't seem too bothered. He nods, but his smile does slip. "Of course," he agrees. His hand rests on the door, ready to push it open, but he turns back one last time. Magnus' grin is back, and the sudden beauty in his open joy almost sends Alec staggering back. 

"Thank you for walking me to the door," Magnus says.

The rain suddenly sounds far away. All Alec can hear is Magnus' breathing, louder than usual, just like his. 

"Uh, no problem," he says, "I'll thank Jace for being forgetful, I guess."

It's a random thing to say, but at least it stops him from continuing to stare at Magnus, paralysed.  

"Please do," Magnus agrees. He takes the first step and pushes open the door. "See you soon, Alec," he says, and then he's heading inside, the door closing slowly. It gives Alec enough time to offer an awkward wave through the glass, before turning on his heels and walking back to the car.

As soon as he climbs back into the front seat, closing the umbrella, Alec freezes.

Why didn’t he just give Magnus the umbrella?

No, he had to walk him up to the loft like a worried mom.

 _Great_ , Alec thinks to himself, _now he definitely thinks I’m an idiot._

Still, as he drives back, the rain keeps him company, the gentle sounds reminding him of Magnus' smile; soft, sure and natural.

~

Magnus is more surprised than he ought to be when he sees another guy standing beside Alec at their next training session. He stands chatting with Izzy and Alec, glancing up immediately when Magnus walks into the training room.

Isabelle smiles, coming in for a greeting hug.

“Hey, you,” she says, “guess what I found for you, finally?”

“Hm,” Magnus murmurs, “free time so I can ask out your brother?”

Stifling a giggle, Isabelle shakes her head. “Unfortunately, no, but I am not letting you off the hook with that. We’ll talk, later,” she promises with a wink. “I found you a partner,” she announces this proudly, even throwing in some jazz hands as she points to the new guy.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, offering Magnus a friendly smile and a firm hand shake.

“You too,” Magnus greets carefully, studying him as inconspicuously as he can. The guy is handsome, with dark skin and high cheekbones. His features are strong, with an angular face, but a sweet smile. He’s a little timid for Magnus’ liking, not fully engaging with eye contact, but Magnus doesn’t make judgements. Not yet. The last thing he wants to do is ruin his one and only shot.

Isabelle doesn’t give them much time for dawdling. She claps her hands together, looking very pleased with herself.

“Elias has just gotten back from a nation-wide tour with a major dance company,” Isabelle says, smiling encouragingly at him. “He’s Gold level, just like you.”

“I haven’t danced in any major competitions for a while, but I’ll do my best,” Elias quickly adds, giving Magnus a small smile, but the man’s honesty is sweet, and Magnus tries to look calm.

“I’ll take you through the routine now,” Magnus suggests, “and then we can see if there needs to be any adjustments?” He makes sure to add intonation on the end. This has to be a trusting partnership. It can’t just be Magnus leading all the time.

Although, as he watches Elias obediently head to the floor, he worries that the guy won’t be able to say no, or give Magnus a full opinion.

_Not like Alec would._

Magnus banishes this very unhelpful thought.

It doesn’t help that Alec is still standing in the room, beside Izzy, hovering as though he’s about to dash for the door, or storm over to them.

Magnus makes the decision for him. He comes to stand in front of Alec, not giving himself time to reconsider.

“I hate you ask you for another favour, Alec,” Magnus begins quietly, making sure the others don’t overhear, “but could you stay? You’re the only other person who knows the routine like I do, and…I trust you,” he says it simply, but Alec catches the depth of it.

He must sense Magnus’ nervous energy because he smiles, head dipping in a brief nod. His calm expression is exactly what Magnus needs to see right now, and another wave of gratitude warms his chest.

“Sure,” Alec says. “I’ll stay.”

Magnus turns away and heads over to Elias, extending an arm to begin the dance.

All the way, he can feel Alec’s eyes burning into his back. The intensity sets every nerve in Magnus’ body to an overwhelming awareness.

He hides the shiver well.

~

 _He’s not good enough,_ Alec thinks, watching the pair dance around the room.

They’ve been rehearsing for over half an hour now, and Alec’s place on the bench is beginning to feel like a prison cell. He can’t leave, wanting to be here for Magnus, but he also can’t separate them. Watching them is beginning to physically hurt. 

He's reluctantly silent, keeping his worries to himself.

After all, what’s he going to say? ‘You’re not capturing the dance like we do’.

He’s stubborn, and abrasive, but Alec likes to think that he’s not a complete asshole.

So he keeps quiet, covers up his frustration. He tries to remind himself that it’s not his place to have that opinion. He’s here as their tutor, not their bonding buddy.

But it’s true. Even Alec can see this. Elias is a wonderful dancer. His lines are sharp, and they look well together, but it’s not show-stopping, which Alec wants for Magnus.

He can practically feel his mom’s glee radiating around the room when she pops in during a training session. Maryse smiles happily, but there’s nothing warm about it. It’s a quiet victory, only made obvious when she comes to greet Alec with a hug, and says, “I knew you’d do a good job.”

 _Great_ , now she thinks he’s sabotaged Magnus’ chances on purpose.

When Elias leaves, Magnus must catch on. He zips up his jacket, slightly angry as he asks, “What’s up?” He pauses, but then storms on. “You look like you’ve been forced to swallow lemons all afternoon.”

“It’s just the hairspray,” Alec mutters. He doesn’t joke again, especially when Magnus’ expression turns tired.

“I trust you, Alec, so please, be honest with me. Do you think Elias is the right partner for me?”

“Yes,” Alec says, the lie almost choking off his air supply.

Magnus nods curtly. “I’ll see you next week then.”

~

The final week, Magnus thinks, is always the worst. It’s a chaotic blur of sorting out final steps, outfits, music selections and transport. The Schools’ dancers and teachers travel together, taking huge coaches to get there. Clary and Simon, back from their adventures - and miraculous, not in jail or bankrupt from gambling - are tagging along too, working backstage; Clary, with the art and staging department, and Simon, with music and tech work. 

As they rehearse in that final week, Magnus can’t help but feel…bitter.

It’s not anger in his chest, but he can’t work out why he’s suddenly on edge. Elias is a good dancer, and a nice guy. He’s patient and calm. He’s also a fast learner, with a good enough memory to learn the routine in the first week, so they can sharpen it in the second.

They even start thinking ahead, for the semi-finals. Each round of the Championships sets a different dance style. The qualifiers are Waltz, the semi-finals ask for a Tango, and the final round asks for two dances; a Quickstep, and then a dance of the pair's own chosen style.

Magnus starts drafting out ideas and stories, creating choreography sometimes well into the early hours of the morning.

But for now, with two days to go, he’s on his way to meet up with Catarina and Ragnor. The pair have been, to their credit, fully supportive, if not sarcastic little shits. He can excuse Ragnor on grounds of his twisted, English humour, but Cat’s teases are just as bad.

But they know when to stop, and are quick to offer genuine advice when needed. They'll also be at the qualifiers, but have little time to mingle with him. They'll be covering the event, having to watch all of the dances, and interview judges, teachers and special guests alike. 

When he arrives at the bar – they’re shaking up tradition and having drinks days _before_ the competition this time – they greet him with cheerful smiles. And cocktails.

Magnus enjoys both offers immensely.

If all goes to hell at the qualifiers, at least they’ll have good memories to think back on. The journey to getting here has been a lot less troublesome than he’d feared it would be. It’s been, dare he say it, fun. He’s enjoyed getting to know the Lightwoods – although he’s happily avoided Maryse most days – and rediscovering his love for ballroom dancing.

“To Magnus,” Ragnor begins, “one crazy bugger.”

“One crazy, talented, amazing bugger,” Catarina adds, and Magnus blows her a kiss.

“To everyone who needs someone foolish enough to try,” Magnus says, “I’m going to do my best.”

Both of his friends immediately sober up, looking sombre. 

Magnus winces. “Oh, ignore me, let’s get drunk,” he mutters, and they chink glasses.

~

Magnus can still feel the warm buzz in his head come Friday morning, the day of the qualifiers.

The competition is held over two days, the ranks split on both days. Magnus knows that he’s dancing today, whereas Alec is dancing on the Saturday segment. In a way, he’s glad for this, because it means he won’t have to feel like they’re competing as fiercely. The top 10 couples from each day go through to the semi-finals.

 _You simply have to be better than fifty other couples_ , Magnus thinks, with only a hint of self-pity.

He knows he’s good enough. The work has been tiring as well as enjoyable, but he’s ready.

_But is Elias?_

Magnus glances around as he waits in the parking lot. The coach is already open, letting in dancers, but he’s waiting for someone. It’s not Elias, because the guy has said he’ll meet Magnus there, having an interview for another company tour beforehand.

Ignoring the stab of worry prickling his gut, Magnus settles for taking out his iPod. He focuses on losing himself in what Ragnor and Cat call ‘the zone of stress-free bliss’.

True bliss comes a few minutes later, when Alec appears from the gathered crowd of dancers, waving. His smile is one of hesitant joy, dimples flashing as he approaches.

One of these days, Magnus is going to throw up his hands and kiss the guy senseless, and it’ll be Alec’s own damn fault for looking like that.

“Hey,” Alec greets, voice gruff but relaxed. He lazily smiles, his morning energy washing over Magnus like a warm hug. “You all good?” he asks.

“I think so,” Magnus says. He toys with his earphones, keeping his hands busy. “And you?”

“I think so,” Alec repeats, smirking most unfairly across at a guy who is very much trying to keep his hands from twining around Alec’s neck.

Magnus dismisses the flustered feeling as a product of nerves. He smiles back, gesturing to the coach that’s filling up with people.

“Not fighting for the back seat with the rest of the kids?” Magnus asks.

“Izzy and Jace have already saved me a seat,” Alec admits, a bit sheepishly. “I was, uh, looking for you. I didn’t see you on-board.”

“I wasn’t getting cold feet, Alexander,” Magnus hastily says. He stops twining the earphones around, and curls them up into his palm. He allows his worries to show, sighing. “I am anxious,” he admits. “I know I can do this, but the nerves never go away, do they?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Alec agrees. He settles, standing beside Magnus, and inclines his head. “Let’s go? Or were you waiting for someone?”

“I was,” Magnus admits gravely, even pretending to glance around.

Alec cocks his head, asking silently.

Magnus lets his grin turn teasing. “He’s here now.”

When Alec huffs out a laugh, waving away his remark with an eye roll, Magnus is sure that he’s smiling as well.

~

“So much glitter,” Magnus coos, glancing around at the dressing rooms with all the wide-eyed adoration of a kid at Christmas. He hangs up his suit on the assigned peg, placing his bag down on the bench underneath.

Looking around, you’d think that the competition has already begun. In a way it has. Although there’s an hour and a half to go, there are last minute changes and hair and makeup and occasional interviews – if the couple feels confident enough.

Magnus knows that he’ll be avoiding reporters until after the dance. He’s deliberately not spoken about this with Elias, not wanting to spook the guy, but they’ll take it bit by bit.

The careful tip-toeing frustrates Magnus still. Of course, he never expected to have a partner he immediately connects with. That would be asking for too much. However, Elias is a good dancer, and he’ll have to do.

A twinge of guilt washes over him. Magnus didn’t mean to think of Elias as beneath him, but he can’t help but worry that the other dancer’s heart isn’t fully in it. What they’re trying to achieve is huge. He can't be hesitating for much longer. 

But there’s no time for backing out now.

Magnus loses Alec almost as soon as they sign into the spacious ballroom hall. It’s two-tiered, with a surrounding circle of seats for the audience – and other dancers, if they’re strong enough to watch the competition. Judges are seated in the front row, thankfully not standing out.

Taking one look at the huge performance space, Magnus gulps once and heads inside. He decides to stay backstage and lose himself in the colour and conversation.

He says goodbye to Alec, knowing the guy will probably watch from the chairs with the rest of the School, and quickly turns to find the dressing room. He’ll need to get his makeup done, and grab their numbers to pin on. When Elias arrives, they can decide to do a final rehearsal or not.

Some days, it helps, but other times, it just heightens the nerves too much.

Secretly, Magnus wishes that Alec was dancing today. At least he’d have some company sitting in the dressing room.

Instead, he’s forced to plug his music back in and find a free mirror. One of the girls squints her eyes at him. Her fake tan is so orange it almost requires sunglasses to look at her. He smiles politely, not in the mood for pre-dance psyche-outs.

Magnus has always been a good sport, his healthy competitive streak not rendering him a huge asshole, unlike some people. He focuses on carefully lining his eyes with black kohl, and then adding a touch of dark red glitter along his lids. He’s going for simple, but beautiful, colours matching the burgundy of the elegant suit.

“Oh, god, can I be really rude and ask you to do my eyeliner?”

Blinking in surprise, Magnus turns, and finds himself facing a grimacing Isabelle Lightwood. She’s already dressed, despite the fact that Magnus knows the Silver rounds aren’t until a few hours’ time. Her emerald green ball gown is high-necked and flatters her curves well, flowing out at the bottom.

He bites back a grin, and nods. “Sit,” he instructs softly, and when she does, Magnus takes his friend’s chin gently in his. He strokes the brush across her lids, lining them with extra flicks, highlighting Izzy’s beautiful eyes.

She bounces up seconds after the brush is taken away, turning to look in the mirror. Her reflection beams back.

He’s ready and waiting when she spins back around and hugs him, tightly, whispering a thank you into his ear.

“Any time, my dear,” Magnus reassures her, very glad to have someone like Isabelle around at a stressful time like today.

She senses his tension then.

Plucking the brush from his hands, Izzy glances around before asking, “You know you’re better than everyone here, right?”

“Isabelle,” Magnus warns quietly, but her pep talk is working. A bit. He laughs against his will when she places her hands firmly on her hips.

“I’m deadly serious,” she says, narrowing her eyes playfully. “You’re a king of dance, the belle of the ballroom. You’re going to place in the top 10, easily. You’ll keep going until there’s a trophy in your hands almost as beautiful as you are.”

“Is that possible?” Magnus inquires innocently.

“Remember what I said before? About covering up? I see you, Magnus Bane,” Isabelle teases, but there’s a soft tenderness in her look as she smiles at him. “I have to go and rehearse with Meliorn, but as soon as you get off the dancefloor, you can bet I’ll be backstage waiting for you. Clary and Simon are around here. If you find them, say hey from me. They dragged Jace into helping with the lights as well," Isabelle tells him, laughing. 

“I’ve never had such a gorgeous cheerleader,” Magnus teases her, and Isabelle gives him a look of warning.

“I don’t come cheap,” she says, “you have to pay me back by promising something.”

“Oh, no,” Magnus mutters. “What, pray tell?”

“You have to dance with me again.”

“The horror,” Magnus teases. “My pleasure.”

She gives a little wave before parting the crowd of dancers, head held high like the princess Magnus knows she is, warm heart, golden crown and all.

Magnus turns slowly around, running a hand down the zipped bag. He carefully unzips it, thumbing at the beautiful suit inside.

 _Now is a good of a time as ever,_ he thinks.

Deciding that it’s time, Magnus heads for one of the private changing cubical, just in time to hear the overhead voice announcing the first couple.

With a cheer, and a hushed silence, the competition begins.

~

“Have you seen Elias yet?”

“Alec, you should be thinking about your sister,” Maryse says, pausing to show her contempt. It’s so strong that Alec can feel it. Even amidst the cheers and the music and the colours, Maryse somehow manages to make him feel guilty.

“Right, I am, I just…I haven’t seen him.”

He’s still wondering about where Magnus’ partner is, when the next couple spins out onto the floor. They’re good, but not exceptional, slipping a bit in the middle section. They’ve lost his attention well before the two minutes are up.

Somewhere backstage, Magnus is getting ready, soon to be on the floor in front of so many people, watching and waiting for the talked-about dancer. In the practise rooms above, set aside specially for the Schools, Isabelle is also readying, but Alec knows that it’s different. Izzy’s nerves don’t cancel out her skills. She _uses_ them, even, spins it into eye-capturing energy.

As the current couple takes their leave, Alec frowns. He glances down at his watch.

_Twenty minutes to go._

There are two more couples, and then it’s Magnus and Elias turn on the floor. The production department allows for a few minutes between acts to change sets and backdrops. It’s a simple layout, with a large stage, a small raised platform for the band, and two separate staircases leading up onto the second tier. Some couples have used it for effect, but it’s a cheap trick, a way to get the audience’s eyes following them.

Alec swallows, bile sliding against his throat.

“Maybe Elias just checked in at the other gate,” he says before he can stop himself. “He’s probably already backstage…”

Maryse shoots him a cold look. “So?” she demands. “Whatever happens, happens. We have other dancers to support, remember.”

Alec nods, relapsing back into silence. To his right, Lydia is watching with the right amount of obedience, not looking threatened or too encouraging. When he catches her gaze, she smiles, and he returns it, trying to push aside the gnawing worry.

He steals another glance at the watch.

_Time’s running out._

“Alec,” Lydia leans in, suddenly whispering in his ear.

“Uh, yeah?”

“If you want to get some _air_ ,” Lydia says this slowly, deliberately, “I can cover for you.”

Alec gives her a grateful smile.

“Go,” Lydia says, “and wish him good luck from both of us.”

He’s up on his feet, carefully making his way from the seats and down the corridor leading to the backstage area, before Maryse can throw out another question…

~

_This isn’t happening._

“Magnus, I’m really sorry. I just can’t. I’d be risking too much. It caught up with me this morning, at the interview, and I tried to call you before, but my phone died, and-“

Eyes blurring from the stinging tears, Magnus shakes his head, but he can’t silence the nervous voice speaking down the line of the cell phone. Elias sounds genuinely heartbroken. His voice is hoarse and miserable. Magnus wants to hate him, but he just can’t. He can still feel his pride getting thrown onto the floor. No matter how regretful Elias sounds, it hurts.

“I understand,” Magnus cuts off the dancer’s rambles quietly, but firmly. He also cuts off the hurt, burying it somewhere he can get out later. For now, he has to keep it together. At least on the outside.

It’s like waking up from a dream, accepting the reality once and for all, that the thing he’s fighting for will likely always be just out of reach. He feels it crumble down, the firm walls lodging and slipping.

Elias apologises one more time, and then Magnus says goodbye, hoping it’s not too curt, but _god_ is he torn apart right now.

_Is this really happening twice in one year?_

Sure, Elias didn’t do it out of spite, but the impact is relatively similar. It’s one thing to stand proudly on your own, but as Magnus glances around, unsure of what to do, he begins to fear how truly alone he is-

“Magnus?”

If there’s one person Magnus didn’t expect to see – or didn’t let himself hope to – it’s the man hurrying towards him now. Alec reaches him, pushing past a few other dancers. His face is flushed, and Magnus wonders if he made the decision quite suddenly to rush into the dressing room.

Before he can stop himself, Magnus just lays it on the guy. He snarls and mutters and wipes away the tears too, not holding anything back. He tells Alec about Elias dropping out, and how annoyed he is.

“Now I’ll have to face the judges and give my number back and-“

“Wait,” Alec interrupts, holding up a hand. His brow is furrowed in worry, but Magnus can see him trying to get them through this.

 _Not us, you_ , Magnus reminds himself. Which actually makes Alec’s kindness almost unbearable. His being here makes Magnus want to cry harder, or curse the fates that he wasn’t partnered with him instead-

“Hey, look, uh, maybe we can get them to change your day,” Alec starts to suggest, “and we can sort something out for tomorrow-“

Magnus holds up a hand. “It’s fine. It’s done.” He pauses and then adds, “ _I’m_ done.”

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Magnus accepts it. He’ll never make it onto that dancefloor and win the Championships. Certainly not this year. He’ll find some optimism again for next year. Maybe.

Alec clears his throat. “No, you’re not,” he says, raising his voice. “I’ll fill in for Elias.”

“That’s funny,” Magnus mutters, strangely disappointed that Alec would offer him false hope. He didn’t think that was in Alec, to do this, but he dismisses it as a friend wanting to be helpful and sighs again.

“I’m not joking, Magnus. I’ll dance with you. Get your shoes back on. Find the assistants, change Elias’ name to mine, get me his number card, and I’ll do it.”

The methodical way he says it is matched with a determined look. Alec’s hands are clenched by his side. As he kneels onto one knee, looking at the sitting Magnus, there’s only sincerity and an honest promise in his eyes.

_He really wants to do it._

Once the shock fades away, Magnus swallows. "You will?” he asks carefully, still filling with disbelief. “You, the guy who hasn’t said a word about what he truly thinks about the rule change, will dance with me?”

He doesn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but Magnus has been let down twice now, and this isn’t fair. At all.

Alec nods, rocking back onto his heels a bit. “They’ll sort something out afterwards,” he says, “but for now, we need to get you on that stage. For the School. Backing out now will look unprofessional. Besides, no one else knows the routine like I do,” Alec briskly reminds him. “It makes sense.”

Rather than hurting him, Alec’s calm professionalism actually helps. Yes, it makes sense, and yes, if he has a friend willing to help him out, Magnus shouldn’t be wasting more time.

“Ah, I see,” Magnus says. Alec’s practicality actually calms him down, so he points and asks, “What about your lack of costume?” He gestures to his own. “I’ll dance colour-coordinated or I won’t dance at all, Alexander.”

Alec actually smirks then. “Magnus, this is a dance competition.” He starts to stand, glancing about with a focused look. “If there’s one thing that’s not lacking, it’s clothing. I’ll find something suitable. Wait here. I’ll be back in five.”

And he is. Exactly.

In this time, Magnus is proud to report back that he’s only had one minor panic attack. He deals with it with happy thoughts of cats. He’s also changed the names with the announcers, and gotten Elias’ number card ready for Alec to pin onto the back of his suit. He glances around, searching the hundreds of seats to find Isabelle and the others, but he doesn’t see anyone he recognises. Even a cackle from Ragnor would be appreciated right now. 

 _Too late,_ he thinks. It’s just him and Alec now.

Besides, the other dancer is right. No one knows the routine apart from Alec. If anything, Alec always knew it better than Elias, he just wasn’t an option.

 _He still isn’t,_ Magnus reminds himself. Alec is standing in. He won’t be Magnus’ partner for the rest of the competitions because the School will contact the dance board and change it.

_What if they don’t-_

A few moments later, Alec comes back into the dressing room, a few people pausing to gawk as the guy appears dressed beautifully in a suit that’s the exact same shade as Magnus’, and carrying his shoes in his hands.

 _“Oh,”_ Magnus says. The words escape out, breathless and relieved all at once.

“This matches, right?”

“Yes. Yes, we do.” Magnus holds up an arm, and sure enough, the colour is a perfect match.

He glances down, eyes catching a familiar sight. “Wait, are they your shoes? You’re dancing tomorrow, why did you bring them today? Alec?”

“I always do,” Alec says. “In case.”

“In case what?”

“Just, in case,” Alec repeats with a mutter, giving a vague shrug. “Are you ready to do this?” He pauses, suddenly catching up with the event. “Oh, okay, _we’re_ doing this. We are, right?”

“You’re sure?”

“Not at all,” Alec admits. “But let’s go get you into the semi-finals.”

~

_What are you doing?_

_What are you doing?_

_What are you-_

Alec’s thoughts become blurs that refuse to still. He marches towards the backstage area, readying to step onto the stage with Magnus. The other dancer is quiet, lost in thought too, and Alec hopes that they can get through this, and get Magnus into the next stage.

He doesn’t say anything, and Magnus doesn’t look like he wants Alec to.

But the trust is there. It stays in the couple of minutes leading up to their announcement.

The Waltz is graceful and travels smoothly across the floor. Alec stares down at his trembling hands and feels his cheeks grow hot, feeling anything but graceful right then.

He focuses on the small gap in the curtain, where he can see the stage below. The floor is covered with a projection, images of falling leaves giving the floor a simple but aesthetically pleasing feel. The small bridge is up and ready, the only prop Magnus put into the dance. Well, and a scarf, that Alec is now holding in his hands.

The bridge is placed towards the centre of the stage, but towards the back, the space in front ready for them to spin on, closer to the judges. The bridge is for the storytelling element of Magnus’ choreography. It’s a simple story; a couple reuniting and then separating, wistful and longing but peaceful. It’s to be danced mainly in hold, with occasional breaks for simple touches. Alec hasn’t rehearsed those bits, not really, but has the feeling that the tenderness won’t be too hard to act out.

Wait, is he actually looking _forwards_ to the dance?

Alec reminds himself that he’s just stepping in. This dance wasn’t made for them.

But as the noise outside fades out, and the overhead announcer starts to introduce them, Alec finds himself smiling. He catches Magnus staring, hand reaching out.

“You ready?” Magnus asks softly, fingers splaying out against Alec's palm.

If he’s expecting Alec to back out as well, he’s all too happy to disappoint.

“If you are,” Alec says.

 _“And now,”_ the overhead voice bounces across the backstage speakers, as well as out to the audience, _“the one we’ve all been waiting for, couple number 26, choreography by Magnus Bane himself!”_

“Did they have to announce that?” Magnus mutters, eye rolling to the high heavens. “Now if I mess up, I have no excuse.”

Alec doesn’t have the time to think up a reply, because then the curtains are being parted for them, and two stage assistants give them the thumbs up to go onto the dancefloor.

Holding out a hand, Magnus quickly slips his into it, and Alec swallows. They’re about to dance together, in front of hundreds of people, and for some reason, it doesn’t feel anything less than intimate.

The atmosphere – tense or supportive – doesn’t usually faze Alec. He’s used to bright lights and cheers or glares. This time, he can feel everyone watching in a new way. Because what they’re doing is different. They’re attempting a new dance, a blend of modern and tradition. How are people going to react?

 _Just focus on the dance. Nothing else,_ Alec instructs himself.

_“Give a warm welcome to couple number 26, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood.”_

They step out together, heading quickly – but not rushing – towards the prop wooden bridge. It’s small and covered in pretend vines, with fairy lights twirling around the railing. Magnus heads onto it, finding his starting position; facing the audience.

Alec meanwhile heads around it, coming to stand behind the bridge, facing Magnus’ back, the audience mainly shielded from his view. From here, he can see the long slits in Magnus' ankle-length jacket. They'll spin out nicely, creating movement in the dance.

Magnus’ hands are resting on the rail of the bridge, fingers curling gracefully around it.

They wait, the audience just as eager for the music – and the dance – to begin.

Holding the scarf in his hands, Alec forces himself not to tense his hands around it, or to clench it. This needs to be romantic and tender, not anxious and rushed.

_I can do this._

But who, he wonders, is he really dancing for?

He doesn't have more time for doubts.

The music starts.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Alec waits a beat. When the dance starts, he steps up onto the bridge, running a hand along the railing until it’s close to Magnus’.

Unfurling the scarf, Alec takes one more step, and then lets his tension slip away. It’s a dance that requires total surrender to gentleness. He leans forwards and wraps the scarf around Magnus’ shoulders, using it pull him back against him. They sway for a beat, bodies pressing together, and Alec swears he feels Magnus sighing, as if it to say, ‘finally, you’re here’.

It’s saying ‘you’re home, you found me’ and Alec’s heart lurches.

Magnus turns in his arms, the scarf still around his waist, and as he plucks it from his hands, Alec keeps one around one end of the scarf, with Magnus holding the other end. They step down from the bridge, Magnus leading him onto the floor, back turned to the audience. Alec ignores the soft spotlights on them. The dance started black and white, but now the stage lights up, a warm, low amber light setting the tender mood. 

Magnus’ expression is overwhelmingly vulnerable. He captures a story in his eyes, and Alec can't look away. Magnus' eyes are welcoming and gentle, anchoring Alec even more than the music, or the anticipation. He's falling into the dance completely.

With the singer starting up the first verse, they finish the opening section with the scarf- some clever choreography on Magnus' part. With the mood set nicely, they begin the main section.

When the first line begins, Alec takes the scarf and drapes it over the bridge, turning back to his waiting partner.

They’re in the middle of the floor now.

What he remembers next isn’t steps, or movements, but _feelings_. Sensations grip Alec, travelling around the floor with him.

The Waltz travels a lot. It has a lot of turns and graceful movements, and they nail them. For once, Alec doesn’t actually think about the steps, which is odd. He just trusts, entirely, that they’ll work together.

As they spin around the floor, balancing out the quick turns with slow hesitation steps, all Alec is unfolds like whispers. He’s suddenly alive, lost in the pressure of Magnus’ wrist against his, and the slight swishing of their long jackets as they spin around.

The simple soft lights, and the sunset hues, creates a calm that Alec mirrors with ease.

It’s not easy. The steps are complicated. Although they don’t make mistakes, the pressure still hovers in the air.

Yet Alec finds this the simplest dance, not because it’s one he’s rehearsed over the past month and a half, but because for once, he only cares about himself, and his partner.

He only cares about getting this right, and for reasons he’s not supposed to give a damn about. He cares about getting Magnus into the semi-finals, and also, dancing with someone he’s probably not going to have another chance with.

Longing aches in his chest, and he pushes it out and into the dance. He’s not enjoyed character dancing before, but this doesn’t feel much like acting.

There’s a small section in the middle of the dance. Magnus wraps both hands around Alec’s neck, gazing up at him as Alec leads him through a half-turn step. It’s one of the tender, in-between hold sections, and he never realised how beautiful they were. The rest of the dance is elegant and formal, but these moments are what gives the Waltz its magic.

Magnus’ choreography is genius, and Alec’s smile is soft, genuine and respectful towards the dancer in his arms. His _friend_.

His beautiful, smiling, clever friend is dancing with _him_.

Alec thinks that dancing has never before felt so magical.

As the song reaches its end, Alec holds out a hand to Magnus, leading him slowly back to the bridge in the centre of the floor. They reach it as the final notes fade out, and Alec slowly dips Magnus in his arms with a tentative smile, one that he’s definitely not meant to give.

His hands don’t shake, but his heart gives an almighty lurch as Magnus looks up at him, the glitter and softness in his expression combining themselves into this intimate enchantment.

Alec lets his smile stay there, and rests his forehead against Magnus’, holding the final pose for another few seconds.

As the stage lights start to dim, just like they’d planned, a shock goes through his system. Instead of fading to black and white again, the stage is suddenly flooded with ribbons of lights, but they’re no longer simple spotlights, it’s a rainbow floodlight that centres on the still pair, and bridge. They're suddenly cast in a kaleidoscope of colours. Gazing down at Magnus, it's like the colours are brand new, alive as though Alec now sees clearly for the first time in his life.

Unable to conceal it, Alec gasp. He feels Magnus stiffen slightly at the shock. Neither of them react to the light change. They just keep their professional calm and wait. He holds him for a few seconds longer, startled, heart racing. He feels seconds from smiling, or crying. Maybe both. It’s weirdly overwhelming, just to hold Magnus in his arms, dipping him in the centre of the bridge as the song fades. 

The lights dim completely, and then the single spotlight is back, and Alec quickly takes that as their cue to take bows.

The pair face the audience. For a terrible, long second, there’s only silence. Surely they felt something, when even Alec himself couldn’t deny how good that felt.

And then the uproar begins. The audience, even most of their rival dancers, climb to their feet, and offer them cheers and claps that clear a path through the doubt and through the nerves. Alec listens to them with a grin, holding a hand out to Magnus as they leave.

_We did it._

They push through the curtains, grinning and unable to speak. They're too buzzed to ask what happened with the lights. That's for another day. For now, Alec lets himself turn to Magnus and smile.

"Whoa," he says. 

Magnus shakes his head, softly, in disbelief. “You never cease to amaze me, Alec,” he says, still holding onto his hand.

“Yeah, what did we just do?” he asks, light-headed and not focused. At all. But Magnus’ hand is in his, and there’s not much more he wants right now. They’ll have to wait some minutes before the results come in, as they’re one of the last couples - but he’s hopeful. The audience loved it, and the judges take that into account. They can be prejudice, but they can't ignore a reaction like this-

“What the _hell_ were you thinking?”

~

The sharp voice directs the attention away from each other. Bile rises up in Magnus’ throat as his partner’s mom stalks over, already backstage waiting with Lydia, Isabelle and a few of the other School teachers. Some are avoiding eye contact, but one or two look curious.

Magnus steels himself from Maryse’s fury, but he’s also tempted to throw angry words back, even though it’s not his place to do so. 

He gets the urge to throw up a hand and cut her off, so he can speak to Alec, alone, before she throttles him. 

“What happened?” Maryse demands.

When Alec gapes for a second, Magnus holds out a hand.

“Allow me,” he offers, and quickly fills the angry teacher in on the situation. He does it quite calmly, despite wanting to sneer at her. She’s never shown him any respect, but he has to tread carefully. He’s dancing under her School’s name after all.

Maryse’s expression doesn’t warm in the slightest. “So?” she snaps. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You can’t change partners after this. What kind of image would that give the School? Changing halfway would make us seem unprofessional. What were you _thinking_?” Maryse raises her voice just a fraction, but it’s enough to make Alec duck his head.

“Oh, I- I didn’t think,” Alec says, “I…”

Magnus holds his tongue, knowing he’s quickly filling up with a lot of harsh words, words that’ll only get Alec in further trouble. He catches Lydia gazing at him, but it’s not an unkind look. The girl seems to be struggling to stay quiet too.

“No, you didn’t think,” Maryse coolly agrees. “You are either being incredibly selfish, or naïve. You cannot change now. How would that look to our School? It’s unheard of,” she snaps. “Thank god they announced you correctly. Now we can pretend this was the plan from the start.”

Magnus blinks in surprise. _Did she actually just…?_

For a second there, it almost sounded supportive, but then Maryse shakes her head.

“What’s done is done. I’ll take care of this.” She narrows her eyes at Alec and adds, “Like always.”

It’s a low blow, and Magnus sort of wants to drag Alec off and away from his vindictive mother. But Alec’s jaw is clenching now, his flush now furious rather than embarrassed. Magnus then wonders if he should tell Maryse to go. In his experience, fights like this need time apart before making rash decisions.

Maryse says, “I expected more from you, Alec. So much more. I didn’t want you getting involved with…this,” she settles on the word slowly, finally acknowledging Magnus with a half-glance. “But, you’ve made your choice, it seems.”

Before either of them can speak, Maryse stands straight, shoulders stiff with tension. “I’ll see you at home later,” she addresses Alec only, before turning and walking hastily away, shaking her head as she disappears into the world outside.

Still backstage, now it’s just Alec, Magnus and a whole load of confused emotions, plus a distressed-looking Lydia who’s still hovering nearby.

Alec inhales sharply, finally turning to her. “Lydia, I’m really sorry, I-“

“No, don’t be,” Lydia interrupts, voice soft. She walks over to Alec, but unlike Maryse, Lydia’s purposeful steps aren’t angry, but headstrong and sure. “Listen, I know you didn’t mean to. It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to explain yourself to me either.” Her smile widens encouragingly. “You two were great out there. Really great. There’s no way you won’t go through.”

“But…you have a day to find someone else,” Alec protests, gesturing hesitatingly between them, “that’s not fair, I’m sorry.”

Lydia shakes her head, lips pressing firmly together. “Don’t worry about me,” she stresses, “I’ll be fine. A day is enough time.”

Magnus thinks about apologising too, but they’re all professionals. The situation is a complicated one. No one’s to blame for it. If anything, Elias dropping out reminds Magnus just why he’s fighting so hard to win; for the voices who are too afraid to try, too fearful to belong.

He gazes across at Alec, catching his worried look.

 _I’m fighting for so much more than myself,_ Magnus realises.

When Lydia leaves, the pair are once again, alone. The audience is still loud, conversing while the stage gets set up for the next couple. Magnus drowns in it, isn’t sure whether to say something or argue for his cause.

Alec suddenly exhales, letting out a slow, pained sigh. He turns, slamming his fist down on the nearest stack of equipment boxes.

“Damn it,” he hisses out, but Magnus knows the anger isn’t directed at him.

Magnus doesn’t touch him, just waits and gives him space to release the tension.

When a few long seconds pass, he says, “You can drop out. Or I can. Alexander, I won’t force you to do this.”

Alec gives him an incredulous look. “But it’s your dream.”

Magnus shrugs. “I can do it next year.” He tries to say it lightly, but there’s a hard edge. He can already feel his smile fading, and so he turns away.

“I’m so sorry, Magnus,” he hears Alec say it quietly, sorrowfully.

His eyes betray him, a few tears falling from them as he realises it’s time to bow out. Magnus can’t cry here. He’ll save it for later.

He suddenly feels a soft touch against his wrist. Alec’s fingers wrap gently around his hand, tugging him to turn back around.

“I…I want to dance with you,” he finally says.

“Yeah?”

Alec nods. “I didn’t sign up for the publicity, or any of…this,” he gestures vaguely, both to Magnus, and to the stage, and Magnus hides an amused grin, “but I enjoyed it.”

Alec swallows. “I liked that. What we did,” he says it quietly, like it’s something to be ashamed of. Magnus realises that this just makes him more convinced to carry on, to make same-sex dancing valued and respected, to give other dancers true freedom.

Magnus holds out a hand. “You don’t have to say yes, but I’m all in," he says. "I don’t do things by half, Alec, and I respect if you want to quit. I’m not here to judge you, but I’m a fairly decent judge of character, and I get the feeling that you want this, even if you’re not ready to admit it yet.”

In response, Alec is silent, and stares between his hands, and Magnus' eyes. His shoulders are hunching over, like he just wants to disappear, but the determination in his eyes is still there. Magnus begs it to come out again. 

When the guy doesn't say anything else, Magnus settles for a small smile. "And so," he begins, "I won't press you for an answer tonight." He pushes down the urgency, instead focusing on the achievement they've just managed to do. "We have a month until the semi-finals, Alec. Decide in your own time, and let me know. In the meantime, thank you for filling in,” he says, and means it. The temptation to hug Alec, or kiss his cheek, suddenly hits Magnus, but it’s an intimacy that isn’t his to ask for.

Not yet.

Suddenly the realisation that he wants that is pretty scary.

Magnus swallows down the rising panic, spinning on his feet and heading back to the dressing rooms-

Halfway out the door, fingers curl around his wrist carefully. 

“Magnus, wait."

He turns back around again, sucking in a slow breath, but his hopes are already up and rising further and further.

Alec is standing a bit taller now, his hands shoved into his pockets. 

He nods, once to himself, and then says, "Okay. I'm in." 

Magnus counts to five. He cocks his head. "You're sure?" he asks.

Alec nods. “I'll do it," he agrees. "For you.” His eyes widen as he rushes to add, “A-and for the School, and my parents, and…”

“You?” Magnus finishes, quirking an eyebrow. As flattered as he is by Alec's offer, he wants him to admit that he enjoyed it. He wants Alec to be brave enough to say yes for the right reasons. “I want you to do this for you as well," Magnus says quietly. "You’re a talented dancer, Alexander, and you deserve the recognition.”

“Oh. Right. Uh, thank you. You do too.”

“We’re both talented. That’s settled,” Magnus teases with a grin. "Alexander, you can take some time-"

"No," Alec cuts him off with a wave of a hand. He nods again. "I'm in, Magnus."

"Okay," Magnus says slowly, testing out the sensation of hope. It builds, and he strengthens it willingly, letting himself accept that something has finally gone right. Just like he wanted, he's now got a partner he trusts completely, and someone like Alec on his side. 

Magnus grins, victorious at last. He feels _invincible_.

“One condition,” Magnus says, stepping closer.

Eyes trained on him, Alec nods, shrugging. “Name it," he says. 

Magnus' gaze falls on his collar bone for a second, at where Alec has undone the first few buttons. He quickly glances up, but the craving to touch doesn't go away.

“I’m not entirely selfless,” he says. “I might be doing this for a greater good, but I also want to win.” Magnus smirks, correcting, “I’m _going_ to win.”

“No,” Alec says, shaking his head. “You’re not.”

Hurt stabs at Magnus’ chest. He swallows, about to retort, when his new partner huffs out a laugh.

"All I mean," Alec begins, holding out a hand, "is that _we're_ going to win, Magnus."

Pulled in by Alec's confidence, and the smirk he's all too eager to return, Magnus shakes Alec's hand, holding on for longer than necessary. He grips it tightly, and then gently, letting the handshake become something more. He's just holding Alec's hand, the pair alone and tired and alight with this new promise of the future.

“Indeed," Magnus agrees, "we are.”

~

_Qualifying Gold couples for the 2017 International Ballroom Championships:_

_Couple number 5, James Carstairs and Tessa Gray._

_Couple number 7, Jonathan Morgenstern and Amelie Wade._

**_Couple number 26, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood._ **

_Couple number 54 Jasper Greening and Kaelie Whitewillow_

_(cont. page 2.)_

_We look forwards to seeing you next month at the semi-finals!_

_Good luck!_

_~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we're through to the semi-finals!  
> Do let me know your favourite parts/moments that made you smile/etc :)  
> Again:  
> 1) this is the Waltz inspiration (song/story) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkK1Y8LYDlE  
> 2) this is some of the choreography/same-sex style dancing i'm going for: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WrS8EFnST28 (first couple)  
> Come find me on twitter @clockworkswan96, and tumblr - clockworkswans. I love hearing from you!  
> Part 3 is semi-finals, Tango and.....*drum roll* SALSA DANCING.


	3. Semi-finals: It Takes Two To Tango (Or Fall In Love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salsa, Tango, and....a few things in-between ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> Welcome to part 3 of my self-indulgent, 'i miss Ballroom dancing, and I miss malec so let's combine the two' story.  
> This part has a lot of development, and again, is very malec-centric. I may split part 4 into two parts, depending how it comes along, but for now, happy reading! :)  
> Salsa club songs: (inspired by Sense8)  
> 1) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vy8T2dVJk6k  
> 2) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApN1cZoiX4w  
> Tango song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bE5Rc6DAr00  
> Choreography/inspirational videos:  
> 1) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3vsiiRK5GU  
> 2) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fWB-Y9jodk0  
> Twitter - @clockworkswan96  
> Tumblr - clockworkswans.  
> ENJOY THE FLUFF, MY FRIENDS.  
> (no, really, it's so gross, ew).  
> Oh, and these are the two lifts:  
> https://learntodancetango.com/videos/69129649/flying-fan/#fndtn-comment  
> https://learntodancetango.com/videos/69131240/lets-get-horizontal/#t-72

Whatever Alec expects from the quarter-finals fallout, it isn't this.

He expects awkward silences. He anticipates his mother's fury, or a demand that he pulls out. He also expects something to change between him and Magnus, but he doesn't know what.

Instead, everyone steps away from the qualifiers in a perfectly content position.

Alec and Magnus are through to the semi-finals, Raj stepped in on Alec's behalf to dance with Lydia - and they, too, qualified - and Izzy and Meliorn came second, passing easily. Most of the School's dancers, no matter what rank, sail through into the second round. There's no shock-value reports and articles on their dance, either. Alec waits for word to get out, bracing himself for reporter attacks. But save for the few that call up for simple phone interviews, or drop by the School, it's a mild response. At least, it's mild compared to what Alec fears it might be.

Even Maryse is in an agreeable mood. Despite her initial anger - and Alec knows she's still frustrated with the situation - she's quick to take charge. They're still determined to score victories from both Alec, and Isabelle, only now Maryse is being forced to consider Magnus as a contender as well. Alec is secretly pleased with this. He's always wanted Magnus to have full support, and although it's not gone as planned, now he has it. His mom's disappointment is clear, but Alec doesn't allow himself to dwell on it. 

Because he doesn't, even for a second, regret the decision to step in. Even if it happened so quickly, Alec is proud. And grateful to be Magnus' new partner. 

On the following Thursday after the weekend competition, Alec takes the elevator down from his apartment above the School - easy access, ideal roommates in the form of Izzy and Jace - and meets Magnus for their second training session as official partners. In the first, that Tuesday, they manage to sort out the basics of their routine for the semi-finals. They choose their strongest steps, and decide what to work on throughout the weeks. 

There is, however, one thing that catches Alec by surprise. 

Magnus dances the Tango with sharp lines and deadly focus, so much so that Alec quickly realises that it’s a dance Magnus ought to be leading, not Alec. They switch holds. From now on, it’s Magnus’ arm around Alec’s waist, and Alec letting Magnus guide him across the floor.

It makes Alec bristle at first, not to take charge. Simply because partnering Izzy, or Lydia, has cemented him firmly in that traditional role. But after the Waltz, Alec starts to become more comfortable with the interchangeable steps. 

As he slips into the empty room, Alec shrugs out of his coat, ties up his shoes, and waits in the training room. His skin is already prickling, on high alert. 

When Magnus walks in, that energy seems to fade and multiply at the same time. His senses pick up every little thing, but his shoulders relax, and his smile appears easily. It's a contradiction; calm and eager, and Alec doesn't know what to do about it anymore.

Thankfully, there's the work to think about. A dance to choreograph, and a partner to please.

 _Please_.

Alec quickly shakes his head, getting the word - and accompanying images - out of his mind.

"Is that a no then?" Magnus asks, mistaking Alec's gesture entirely.

They're ten minutes into their session and _great_ , Alec is already making an idiot out of himself. But Magnus arrives with new ideas, and as always, renders Alec speechless in the span of a few seconds. 

"No, no. It's, uh, it's an interesting concept." 

Magnus isn't convinced. “As in, terrible idea, get rid of it," he says, "or continue and try it out?”

Alec shrugs. “It’s a nice concept. In theory. But yeah, let’s try it out. We have enough classical Tango content to please the judges. We’ve got room for…improvisation.”

The word tastes heavy on his tongue. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, but it tastes new, like discovering a flavour for the first time.

“Really? You’ll give it a go?” Magnus narrows his eyes, but Alec can already see the relief in the other dancer’s expression. His partner is a good actor, but he’s not as well-guarded as he thinks.  

“Why not?” Alec says, keeping his tone flat. Casual. “We have time to try it out.”

He doesn’t want to appear like an eager rule-breaker, but Magnus’ suggestions for their Tango choreography _are_ intriguing. He wants to include a few segments inspired by the Argentine Tango, the dance in which Ballroom Tango first originated from. The steps are slower, and travel less across the floor; the partners are closer together in hold. When paired with the traditional steps, it’ll create a nice balance of travel and closeness; tension and movement.

Logically, it makes sense.

That is, until Alec realises that it means having Magnus pressed up against him, legs sliding between his, and no room for hesitation.

The line between professionalism and feelings is hastily fading. Fast. 

Still, despite Alec's conflicted heart, they've easily gone from tutor and student to partners and friends. The transition has gone surprisingly well, Alec thinks. Until now. Because every so often, during times like this, he’s reminded of the boundaries Magnus isn’t afraid to push.

The ones that Alec's  _scared_ to push. 

The concept for Magnus’ choreography this time, is again, surprisingly simple. Alec listens, bracing himself for an elaborate character dance. But, Magnus, as always, challenges Alec’s expectations. He’s gone for the idea of a final dance between a couple; lingering looks, fiery, strong movements, and building tension.

“The grounds for a Tango are about building that tension," Magnus summarises, "but never being able to fully give into it. It’s a painful balance. Slow movements become steps that travel across the floor, quick bursts of movement capturing the highs and lows of love.”

Alec could listen to Magnus speak for hours. His love for dance is enthralling. 

“Yeah,” he agrees lamely. Hands shoved into his pockets, he waits, watching as Magnus finishes off tying his shoelaces. Today, Magnus is dressed in dark pants and a silk shirt with dark gold swirls. As he stands from the bench, Alec can’t help but stare, praying that his silence isn’t off-putting. He just doesn’t know how to speak so freely about dancing as an emotive form.

Work-wise, he can talk about technicality in steps for hours, but throw in how he feels, and Alec would rather back away.

And when it’s someone like Magnus pushing for something _more_ , Alec really wants to start trying. He wants to be brave enough to look further, to grasp at the potential inside of him. He knows it’s there.

That’s what burns the hottest; the pain of reaching and pulling away at the last second.

He’s always been good at hiding, but with each passing day, Alec’s private war starts to unravel even further. Isabelle thinks that one day it’s going to explode, and ‘not the fun kind’ according to his sister.

Still, when Magnus arches an eyebrow at him, Alec just nods again.

“Alright. Let’s try your idea.”

 _Time to get to work,_ he thinks.

~

Half an hour later, and they’ve hit a roadblock.

Well, Alec has hit one. Magnus is his usual brilliant self.

It’s not like he _can’t_ dance Magnus’ steps, but there’s an aspect…lacking. Alec knows it, and he isn’t afraid to point it out. To no one's surprise, he's always been good at pointing out his weaknesses. His head doesn’t turn as sharply as it should. His torso keeps pulling away. His feet stumble over easy steps. 

Objectively, he’s not dancing to the best of his ability. 

_Why?_

Thankfully, Magnus doesn’t coddle him and say otherwise.

“Okay," the other dancers begins, "what do you usually do when you’re struggling with steps?" Magnus asks. "Take a break?”

“I don’t usually struggle,” Alec admits. “I don’t know what’s different this time.” He rubs a hand across the back of his neck. It comes away damp with sweat, but Alec doesn't feel hot. Or satisfied. He's almost cold. Flat. Too formal. 

It’s not because of the choreography. He knows it well.

It's...something else, this time. There’s a quiet hollow place that refuses to fill entirely. Dancing the steps and going through the movements is no longer enough.

The dance requires more; more emotion, more passion, and Alec has none to give.

_What's changed?_

With the Waltz, it was easy to act because Alec knew it was the first, and last time he’d be giving himself over to a dance completely.

It was easy. Simple. He didn’t…

_Overthink._

As if sensing his thoughts, Magnus starts to make his way over to the stage again. He switches on the music, an instrumental piece that's both tender and powerful. He crosses the floor, brisk and businesslike; lips pressed together, eyes flashing with determination.

Alec swallows, forces his heartbeat to remains steady as Magnus strides closer. 

When he's standing a few feet away, Magnus suddenly stills. He gazes across at Alec. The look in his eyes is puzzling. The usual warmth is there, but now it's crisper, focused in a way that's almost reckless. 

 _Passionate_ , is the word that comes to Alec's mind.

He swallows again. 

“You’re overthinking,” Magnus eventually says. “The Tango isn’t a dance that requires thinking. It needs pressure, yes, and balance, but it needs you to forget everything else. You cannot hold back. I think, Alec,” he says, slowly arching an eyebrow, “that you’re afraid.”

“Of what?” Alec retorts. He winces, not liking the defensive edge his voice is taking.

Magnus doesn't rise to the bait. "Me," he says. Before Alec can protest, Magnus carries on, watching him steadily. "You trust me, and that’s great, but you’ve got to be comfortable with getting in my space. Alexander, you’re not _fighting_ me,” Magnus finishes. 

His words drift down like stones into Alec's stomach. They weight down, heavy with truth and guilt. 

Alec bites his lip, chewing it for a few moments. Just as the silence is getting unpleasant, he lets out a defeated sigh. 

“I don’t want to fight you,” Alec mumbles. “I don’t see what fighting has to do with the Tango. I can fake the romance, and I can act out the drama, and all….that,” he mutters, vaguely waving his hand between them. He doesn’t linger on it, and finishes, “Maybe we should just call it a day. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

He doesn't meet Magnus' eyes, doesn't want to see the disappointment. The music is still going, the track now over halfway through. It doesn't feel right, to have a beautiful track playing, and no one dancing to it.

Alec hesitates. His mouth opens, but then he shuts it. What else can he say? 

Maybe they really should come back tomorrow...

"Alright." Magnus offers him an understanding look, but when he smiles, Alec swears there's something impish about it. Again, it's a dare. “If you want to give up then-“

“I’m not giving up,” Alec interrupts, cutting him off before he can hesitate. 

Magnus’ lips twitch. This time, the roguish expression he wears is unmistakable. “Ah, so you do have some of that abrasive charm left," Magnus says, pleased. "Come on, let’s get it onto the dancefloor.”

“W-what?”

“Tension, Alexander,” Magnus says, a playful glint in his eyes. “Give it to me.” He steps forwards, and Alec, on instinct, steps back.

He hears a click. The track has stopped. 

A few seconds later, it starts to play again. The first notes are quiet, soft and tentative. 

Ignoring the wordplay, Alec swallows. “What do you want me to do exactly?”

“Step forwards. Simple.”

He does.

“No, like this,” Magnus steps slowly, but purposefully, forwards, foot sliding with grace. He leans into the step, pushing into the floor. His panther-like grace stops Alec's breath. It catches in his chest. 

Again, as he approaches, Alec steps back hesitantly.

“See? It worked.” Magnus keeps stepping closer, and Alec steps back. Soon he’s going to hit the wall. He’ll have to fight back at some point.

And now he gets it. Magnus is pushing him back, and back, until he'll have no choice but to push forwards. He's going to have to be confident. Powerful. Like Magnus.

“Tension, Alexander,” Magnus is saying as he steps closer, each second making the distance between them smaller. "You can’t dance without it, and you’ve got to be comfortable enough with me to fight back, to get in my space.”

_I can't, I can't-_

Alec sucks in a breath. Magnus is so close now, and he can feel the ghost of the wall behind his back. Hastily, and before he can talk himself out of it, Alec finally takes a step forwards. His sudden move places his leg between Magnus', parting the other dancer's thighs. Alec's leg slides between Magnus', pressing their bodies together with excruciating intimacy. It's just a step. Only one step. But it captures a moment that's going to stay with Alec long after Magnus leaves. 

Magnus doesn’t move. “Good." His honeyed voice is unusually hoarse. "Keep going. Push _closer_ ,” he murmurs. 

The words rake down Alec's spine, sending shivers across his skin. A small sigh pushes into the private space between them. Alec doesn't know if it came from Magnus, or from him. All he knows is that he's danced for years, but until now, never knew it could communicate so much. 

He's hearing the music, but hearing Magnus' breathes as well. He's sensing the vibrations in his spine, and his shaking hands. He can feel Magnus' leg, tensed but trembling as Alec holds the pose. 

Licking his lips once, Alec, at last, pushes back this time. Magnus is ready and waiting. He steps back, eyes locked on Alec. Their legs stay touching, the simple steps turning from good to compelling, steady to courageous. 

Alec doesn't even register the moment when they get into hold. All he knows is that Magnus' arm is back around his waist, and this time, he's not holding anything back. Tensed frame. Steady, sure footwork. Eyes...unwavering.

There's specks of amber-gold in Magnus' eyes. How did he not notice this before? 

He can't look away. He doesn't, not until the music fades, and they're both standing there, in the middle of the floor, silent. The air crackles around them. Alec finally returns from whatever strange, mesmerising haze he's been lost in, stepping slightly back. His cheeks are burning, and Magnus' chest pushes out, straining against his shirt. 

“That felt…great. A lot better, right?”

Alec blinks a couple of times. That hoarse, breathless voice surely doesn't belong to him.

But it does, and Alec knows why; is pretty sure it's because Magnus' heat is still burning into Alec's chest. It coaxes out the fire, feeds the aching need in Alec's fingers, to reach out and touch Magnus. 

While Alec tries to steady himself, his partner is regarding him with a careful look, his gaze suddenly distant.

Magnus blinks, looking up quickly. “Hm? Oh, yes, Alec, that was much better." Magnus sounds distracted, dazed. "You just needed to bridge that distance," he says quietly, shaking the hair out of his eyes as he turns. He strolls over to the stage to turn the music down, but the lazy control in his movements is gone. He's unguarded. Stripped back.

Alec wonders if it isn't just him who feels vulnerable anymore. 

When Magnus comes back, the unreadable look in his eyes is gone. But Alec swears there's still something there, buried carefully inside.  

"You alright?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Quite. I'm glad you worked it out. One step closer to winning, hm?"

Magnus' voice is airy, the usual control slipping again.

Alec doesn't try and press for more. Instead, he settles for neutral ground. "I don't know what happened," he admits, "but yeah, I, uh, I think it's gone now." He runs his fingers across his stubble, the rough feeling jarring him from his daze. 

"It's understandable, Alexander," Magnus says. Alec instantly relaxes when he hears his name, senses that his partner is back to his usual self. “Same-sex dancing isn’t a norm for you. It goes against what your instincts say. You should be dancing with a woman, is what your mind is saying," Magnus explains, "but your heart, hopefully, says something else.”

 _Yes_ , Alec wants to say, _it does._

He suddenly realises what Magnus is getting at. It's never been a problem with Alec’s footwork, or a lack of trust. It's the years of repressing what he'd thought was abnormal desire. By acknowledging this, and by pushing back against Magnus, he’s freeing a small part of himself. He’s given a new kind of liberation to his dancing.

In a way, he’s accepting more of _himself_.

Alec smiles. “Thanks.”

He means it. Completely. The relief settles in his chest, slow, sweet and satisfying. 

Magnus beams, but when he pats Alec’s chest in friendly farewell, his smile turns mischievous.

“Don’t thank me yet," he teases. "We still have lifts to practise.”

~

_Damn it._

As Magnus anticipates it will, Alec’s reserved nature comes back in full swing. He doesn't get angry, or hurt. It's not anyone's fault, after all.

But the earlier breakthrough is slipping. Fast. 

Their next training session goes from promising to frustration in the space of ten minutes. They start with a run-through of what they’ve already mastered. They travel smoothly, curve their top halves to create beautiful lines, and everything goes wonderfully.

Until Magnus pushes some more.

“So, what lifts do you do with Isabelle?”

“Uh, all, really. _Arabesque, flying fan_ -“

“Perfect. Shall we try the _flying fan?_ It’s simple and can fit into the ending section nicely.”

The lift is simple, with one dancer lifting the other around the waist and spinning them around, the other dancer’s legs tensed and facing outwards as they spin out to give the dance its name.

But Alec steps back before Magnus has even come closer.

 _And here we go,_ Magnus thinks, hiding his wince. But it's been a week now, and they need to progress. Which means working out which lifts they want to include. He passed Izzy and Meliorn practising earlier, and feeling inspired, Magnus comes into the training room with a happy smile.

One that's now fading. 

“Do we need lifts?" Alec asks, forehead puckered with worry. "We don’t, do we? I mean...It doesn’t feel right.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t feel…proper.”

“Says the one who danced it with his sister,” Magnus teases, before he looks up and sees that Alec’s expression is rather serious.

But he’s determined to try them out, especially because their equal strength could produce some rather impressive lifts. _If_ Magnus can get Alec over his traditional mind-set. He knows the guy isn’t icy or standoffish. He’s just cautious, which makes sense, given the School he dances under. Magnus can’t imagine Maryse or any of the other teachers even mentioning a male dancer lifting another.

Magnus reminds himself that this is Alec. His friend. A partner he trusts.

It's okay to want to get the best out of them. 

Magnus tries again. “That’s because you’ve had traditions drilled into your head since you were old enough to form an opinion, Alec,” he says carefully. “You see dancing with a guy as wrong because you didn’t see anyone else doing it. I doubt your parents, or the School, encouraged any feelings other than the norm. This is why what we’re doing is important.”

Alec nods in agreement, but he hunches as he paces back and forth. His heels squeak across the polished floor. 

“I don’t know what the problem is," Alec mumbles. "It’s just a lift, right?” Before Magnus can intervene, Alec carries on, the muscles in his face tight and tense. "I just think we shouldn't include lifts. Mom wouldn't like it, and...it might look messy."

Magnus' gut tells him that he's overstepping. He should be content without lifts. 

But his passion makes him eager, and he can't stop, torn between playing the understanding friend, or the daring partner. He knows Alec is bold and confident, when he's stopped caring what others think. But it's not Magnus' job to teach him. They're equals on the floor.

Which is why Magnus is unsure about revealing his opinion. Especially on a personal subject like this.

"I think," he begins, slowly, "I know the problem."

"What problem?" Alec demands. The abrasiveness makes him blink. He tries again, quieter. “Magnus, please. I…I want to get it right.”

Ignoring his gut, Magnus nods. “I know you do, Alec. That’s what makes this harder to explain.” Magnus pauses, running his tongue across his bottom lip, thinking it over. Finally, he glances back over at Alec. He keeps his expression carefully neutral, not accusing or patronising, just honest.

“Steps are either masculine or feminine. Leader or being led. The idea of lifting in this dance is frustrating to you because it steps out of those gender roles. It’s understandable. We’re trying to break down these roles, Alec.”

When Alec remains silent, Magnus tries again. “So, can we try a few lifts out?” Magnus asks.

Alec seems like he’s about to nod, but then he just snaps, something inside of him rushes to the surface. “No, Magnus, I- I don’t want to. Stop pushing this.” He glances around, and the shame is unmistakable. Alec lets out a growl, the sound tearing from his lips. “What do you want from me?” he snaps.

Magnus' temper finally flares up. He squeezes his eyes together, blocking out Alec's half-angry, half-confused expression. The hurt is raw against his throat, burning out whatever words Magnus could say. 

He's tired. He suddenly realises this. He doesn't want to fight, or argue with Alec, but perhaps it's time to call it a day. 

Opening his eyes again, Magnus sighs. He forces the hurt down too, feeling it scratch at his throat, leaving the words unspoken.

“Right now?" Magnus finally replies. "Nothing,” he says flatly.

The cold tone in his voice seems to break through the wall Alec's thrown up. His warm, hazel eyes immediately soften, losing their anger.

"Magnus, I..."

Before he can try again, Magnus holds up a hand, trying to appear civilised.

It’s not Alec’s fault, but Magnus’ temper needs cooling. He knows when he needs to step away.

“I need a break,” Magnus mutters. “I’ll be back soon.”

Ignoring the split second he gets to see Alec's shocked look, Magnus turns away. As soon as he does, he longs to spin back around. He longs to apologise, or let Alec speak. But he doesn't. He's always been the first one to bridge the gap, to be the patient one. Not just with Alec, but with so many other people.

Admittedly, he's tired, and not in the best mindset, but the hurt remains. 

Magnus wonders if he's always going to care more than be cared _for_.

Longing to turn back already, Magnus continues to walk out of the room, careful not to slam the door. They’re on the first floor today, and so he heads onto the balcony, leaning against the railing as he lets his irritation fade. It’s not just a surface annoyance at the School anymore. It’s almost personal, that Alec won’t trust him enough to let him in.

 _It’s not about you,_ Magnus tells himself. And it isn’t. It’s Alec slipping into a way of learning that he’s used to, that is safe to him.

He spends a few more minutes watching over the city below. It’s pretty warm for a late April afternoon, but Magnus still feels a chill brush across his forearms. He rests his hands against the railing and inhales slowly, letting the cool air wash over him. It does help. It lets the tension from the argument unfold. Like the surrounding breeze, Magnus lets it surround him, and then he pushes it away, sets the hurt free.

He knows not to draw it out, but just as he’s getting ready to head back inside, he hears footsteps approaching.

“Magnus?”

Not turning around, Magnus feels a smile pull at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t need to see Alec’s expression. He can feel the apology in his voice, hoarse, quiet and tentative.

Magnus turns halfway, just as Alec comes closer, standing beside him. He doesn’t say anything, sensing that the quiet is promising, not unsettling. If Alec has come to talk things out, then that means he’s wanting to try again, or at least to accept why he’s struggling.

“You were right. Before, I mean.” Alec’s words break through the silence. They mix in with the melody of the cars and street noise below. “When we’re dancing, and I’m not, you know, overthinking everything, it’s great. Really great.”

“Overthinking, you? Alexander, this concept is ridiculous,” he says, keeping his tease light.

A quiet, relieved laugh pushes out from Alec’s lips. The other guy leans over the balcony, staring down into the city. After a few long moments, Alec tilts his head to the side, his earnest expression softening Magnus' wounded pride. 

“Magnus, I am sorry,” Alec says. “You’ve been nothing but patient with me.”

“Apology accepted,” Magnus quickly assures him. He shifts closer, letting him smile turn playful. “Besides, you’ve gotten me to this point as well. This isn’t one-sided, remember.”

He realises the double meaning before he has time to silence it.

Fortunately, Alec doesn’t pick up on it, or doesn’t mention it regardless.

He nods, asking, “So…We’re good? You’ll…stay partnering me?”

Magnus blinks, astonished. Does Alec really believe he’s so easily replaceable? Or worth giving up on?

It says a lot, again, about the lack of attention given to the dancers’ emotional needs. The School might turn out great dancers, but they sure as hell don’t teach them to become fighters in other departments.

“You really think I’d quit over a slight argument?” Magnus asks quietly, unable to keep the sadness out of his voice. “It takes more than that for me to give up, you know. That’s not a challenge,” he quickly adds, grinning.

Alec smiles, a faint flush making its way across his cheeks. He looks happier again, softer, like he’s told himself it’s okay to forgive himself, and to learn.

Alec runs a hand along the balcony, long fingers tapping it like piano keys. “It just felt like I was fighting…”

“Yourself,” Magnus finishes quietly. “I understand.” Taking a risk, he slowly covers Alec’s hand with his, resting it gently, and stilling his nervous movements. Alec visibly relaxes, his lids fluttering, and his lips parting, relaxed. 

Magnus ignores the thundering of his heart. But lets himself smile. 

“Next time, don’t...don't push me away,” Magnus says softly. “Talk to me, or someone else. It’s not your fault for feeling like that, but you’re right, lashing out doesn’t make the problem go away. Believe me, I’ve done it before. We all have. I’m not a saint,” Magnus is hasty to add, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the past. I’ve probably been the villain in someone’s story. But this, us, is a partnership. Alexander, you’re not alone. I’m not going anywhere.”

This soothes Alec, and his smile becomes freer. “Anything I can do to make amends?” Alec asks, but the humour is there this time. His lips twitch, and Magnus knows that the awkwardness is gone.

Which actually makes Magnus slightly nervous, because now it’s Alec grinning at him, dark hair tousled by the wind, and his eyes glinting with newfound confidence.

“Hm, yes, let’s see,” Magnus says, covering up the odd sensations in his chest. “Come to my Salsa class tomorrow night. It might loosen you up.” The idea is escaping from his lips before he can reconsider.

“Uh…”

Magnus cocks his head, smile becoming an invitation, a challenge, which he hopes Alec will dare to meet. “I’ve lived in your world, and enjoyed it. Come to mine for a night,” he suggests, “and who knows? You might find yourself relaxing. Yes, I know, a foreign concept. Alexander, but we’ve been working our asses off. One night off is going to help. The Argentine has Latin origins, you know. It might do you some good to get that fire in your blood, and steps." He's rambling now, but Magnus can't stop, which is a new feeling for him. What is it about Alec that makes him so balanced, yet lost in the new feelings he brings out of Magnus?

He's so sure that Alec will politely decline. So when he shrugs, nodding, Magnus almost has a heart attack. 

“Why the hell not?” Alec mutters. He smiles and says, “Okay, but I have no idea what to wear.”

“The usual,” Magnus suggests, “but smart. I'll take you somewhere special afterwards. You can invite your delightful siblings too," he quickly adds. Otherwise it sounds dangerously like a date.

_Because that's an unbearable thought. Dating Alec._

“No feathers for you then?”

“Hm?" Magnus blinks, tugged away from his thoughts. He grins. "Alexander, I’m offended that you think I’d sink to feathers. I’m much classier.”

“Yeah,” Alec surprises him by softly agreeing, “you are.”

If Magnus didn't know any better, he'd think the responding look he gets from Alec is rather fond. Affectionate. 

It reminds Magnus of how he felt before. During yesterday's training session, he felt that bareness, the overwhelming sensation of being seen. _Really_ seen. It surprises him, and delights him, that Alec can do this, make Magnus feel vulnerable. 

Instead of pulling away, Magnus smiles warmly, clinging to the stolen moment. 

A few minutes later, the breeze picks up. As lovely as it is to watch over the city, the balcony isn't a good training place, but as they head inside, Magnus exchanges a long look with his partner. Alec's expression is unguarded, youthful in its sincerity. 

He nods. "Yeah. New day, new start." He's already reaching across for his jacket, picking up his discarded trainers. 

Magnus smiles. "I'll see you tomorrow, Alec," he agrees, once again pleasantly surprised by the way they can read each other so well. He considers offering a hug, but the idea of being that close to Alec without preparation is oddly intimidating. Training is one thing. It's work. A professional space. 

Their friendship, Magnus decides, isn't something he can bear to lose. 

Still, leaving on a good note is better than parting on an argument, so Magnus smiles again, nods as he walks out. After all, part of being a pro is accepting that overworking can be a bad thing.

Besides, he thinks, smirking to himself, he'll be seeing Alec tomorrow.

He freezes, standing at the top of the outside steps of the School.

_Damn it._

Come to think of it, Magnus isn't sure if getting Alec to agree to come along to a Salsa class is a great idea. 

Magnus can already feel his professional side shaking its head.

_How are you going to keep those walls up if you're making it hard for yourself?_

He shrugs, waving off the concern.

They can be professionals about this. 

Surely.

 ~

_Stay calm._

_Stay calm._

Alec repeats the mantra to himself, but finds it entirely useless as the little ones giggle, their eyes curiously following his every movement.

Magnus, however, is fighting to contain his grin.

“Class, this is Alec," he says. "Alec, these are my other angels.”

It takes a moment for Alec to catch Magnus’ little joke, and he forces himself not to blush in front of a group of inquisitive kids.

He waves awkwardly at the group. “Uh, hey.”

 _Pandemonium's_ Community Dance Centre is looking more and more frightening as the seconds tick by. They're in a large training room, similar to the ones at Alec's School, but here, there's a roomful of small, curious children eyeing up the newcomer. There's pegs around the room, where colourful coats and jackets line the walls. Each belongs to one of the kids here. Magnus' 8pm class is made up of twenty kids, all bright-eyed and eager to learn.

After a few seconds, Magnus leans in and whispers, "You can take your place now,” Magnus whispers.

As he nods, heading across to stand with the young ones, Alec tries to remember why he signed up for this again. Oh, yeah, because Magnus asked and he’s helpless to saying no to that guy’s smile.

Early that morning, when he told Izzy and Jace what he’s doing this evening, the pair practically injured themselves laughing. Isabelle was wiping tears from her eyes and Jace was offering him moral support in the form of helpless grins. And of course they invited themselves along later, because of course, it couldn’t be a simple class. No. Magnus invited them all out for dancing at his friend’s club afterwards.

Which, yes, is a sweet offer. Except Alec isn't really a club person.

But he is a Magnus person, and so he faces the class with as much dignity as he can. If there's one thing Alec isn't, it's a quitter. 

It's scarier than any competition, being in this class. He's never danced a step of Salsa in his life. He's danced Latin before, briefly, during his earlier years, but quickly learnt that it wasn't his style. At all. 

A kid in front of him waves shyly, and Alec refocuses. He manages to smile back, hoping it's not as awkward as he feels.

Who knew a room filled with kids could be so frightening?

“He’s old,” one boy mutters.

_So much for warm welcomes._

"Yes, well, he's a late bloomer, dear."

Alec rolls his eyes at this, but his composure is in danger when he sees Magnus' sly grin. 

Standing at the front of the class, Magnus is dressed in a long-sleeve shirt so unfairly gorgeous that Alec thinks it's meant to deliberately sabotage his self-control. It's black, velvet, and Magnus wears it open to mid-chest, revealing his smooth, toned muscles for all to see.

Alec sees. Oh, he definitely sees. The shirt clings to Magnus' arms, the muscles tensing as he crosses his arms in-front of his chest.

From the corner of his eye, one girl in the row in front catches Alec's attention. He cocks his head, watching as she looks back with harmless curiosity. He smiles, mouths ‘hey’ at her. She smiles then, and although she turns to face her teacher, Alec counts it as a victory. He’s got at least one of Magnus’ kids on his side.

"So, because we have a newcomer today," Magnus says, eyes briefly flicking across to Alec, "how about we improve the basics, hm?" Holding his gaze a moment longer, Magnus winks, and Alec bites his tongue, determined not to act like a kid with a crush when there's a roomful of kids to notice. 

Thankfully, when Magnus runs through the steps, it gives Alec something to focus on. He concentrates, feels the rhythm of the dance as he learns. It's surprisingly simple. The basics, at least. Alec prides himself of having a decent memory, too, and picks it up easily. But the steps is one thing. 'Loosening up', as Magnus instructs, is another thing entirely.

Self-conscious all of a sudden, Alec tries to shake off the awkwardness. As a Ballroom dancer, he's less used to the freeing movements of Latin. But rhythm and musicality, at least, are interchangeable amongst dances, so he tries. 

He's curious, and dreading, actually dancing it _with_ someone.

Magnus is a great teacher; patient, and entertaining. The kids love him, adore his jokes and charm. Alec watches him help a young boy master the half-turn step, and then offer the girl beside him a thumbs up a few moments later. 

As the hour comes to an end, Magnus comes back to stand at the front of the class.

"Well, let's put it to music," he says, surveying the class with an encouraging smile. "Partner up, dears."

Alec hovers awkwardly, unsure if 'I have no friends here' is an acceptable excuse to bow out. 

Thankfully, the girl from the front row comes up to Alec, silently holding out her hand. Her dark hair is frizzy, her smile small, but sweet as she waits. Alec takes it, smiling gratefully, and they find a space on the floor.

"And," Magnus says, fingers hovering on the stereo, "a one, two, three..."

As he counts them in, Alec takes hold of his partner's hands. He grimaces, praying he doesn't step on the poor girl's feet. He hunches over a bit, eyes firmly fixed on his feet. 

The music swells, a light, fun piece with cheerful vocals. It works, because Alec does relax. He tries to stop worrying and just enjoy the practise, enjoy learning a new dance. The little girl nods, and Alec does grin then, sheepish as the kid becomes his guide. He doesn't mind too much. Her smile is friendly, albeit shy. 

If there are dancing gods, Alec sends up a few grateful prayers. Because, as they dance, he finds himself not making a compete fool out of himself. He’s got the basics mastered quite nicely, in fact. His partner, who he learns is called Madzie, doesn’t even bat an eyelid when he steps on her foot at one point.

Only once. Alec calls this success. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, wincing. Madzie takes it upon herself to instruct him, silent but patient.

When Alec catches Magnus watching, as he makes his way around the room to step in with assistance, the other guy is beaming. It’s such a warm smile, and after that, Alec lets his cares go. It’s just dancing, and he can do it. Impossible just means trying again, after all.

Magnus is helping out a small boy near the front, and Alec keeps stealing glances. The boy in Magnus’ arms spins around, and Magnus keeps turning him, his giggles growing louder as his teacher improvises for a few bars.

Madzie has stopped to watch too, and so have half of the class by now. Magnus is holding back, though. Alec can see it. He’s seen Magnus dancing to his fullest abilities, been enthralled by the magic in his steps, and he knows this isn’t it. But the gentleness is new, and Alec swallows, overcome by something softer than desire, and stronger than fear. He’s watching Magnus spin the boy around, dimpled smile flashing, and the beat of the music fades away. The silence is an answer, like Alec’s body has just tuned out the background noise so he can study the other dancer, and work something out.

There’s an answer here, somewhere, and Alec wants to find it. He also wants Magnus to find it, to find _him_.

A tugging at his sleeve jolts Alec from his thoughts. Glancing down, he catches Madzie pushing up onto her toes, trying to reach his ear. 

He crouches down. “Yeah?” he quietly asks.

Madzie points. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Great, he just got caught zoning out and daydreaming by Magnus' student. 

He tries to appear disinterested. “What? Oh, uh, no." He waves a hand. "He’s not my boyfriend.”

Casual. Cool. Composed.

_Good job, Lightwood._

Madzie narrows her eyes, but thankfully, doesn't protest his answer.

He's still crouching beside the girl when Alec hears someone clearing their throat. Pointedly.

“Alexander, if you think you don’t need the practice, perhaps you can demonstrate with me, hm?”

_Damn it._

While he's been kneeling to speak to Madzie, Magnus has apparently finished up his little dance. All eyes are on Alec and Madzie now, and Magnus cocks his head, waiting for an answer. 

Alec smiles as politely as he can. “I’m good,” he says brightly, shoving his hands back into his pockets as he stands up. Madzie stays silent. The traitor.

Magnus narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t push any further. His expression softens when he looks down and sees Madzie, and again, that light pressure in Alec’s chest tightens.

Glancing up at the clock on the wall, Magnus claps his hands together, once. "Then, class," he addresses them with a smile, "you are dismissed for today. Well done, everyone. I'll see you next week."

As the kids scramble to reclaim their coats, and change shoes, Madzie hesitates. She glances up at Alec, smiles for a second, and then heads over with the rest of the kids, pigtails swishing as she moves. As the kids chatter loudly, waiting for their parents or guardians to arrive, Magnus watches them fondly. He's so many people, Alec thinks; on the one hand, hard, confident and strong, and on the other, soft and tentative, warm and gentle. 

He's still lost in thought when Magnus comes over to him.

“So, thoughts?” Magnus asks, cocking his head impishly.

Alec straightens, suddenly self-conscious of the shirt he's wearing. Izzy's picked it out for him; a dark green, smart button-up blouse. The first two buttons are undone, and he swallows, feeling the material brush his throat softly. But they're heading to the club soon, and it's a formal setting, so Alec tells himself it's a good choice.

Realising that Magnus is still awaiting an answer, Alec bobs his head quickly. "Oh, it was, uh, fun," he offers. "Once I quit standing on that poor girl’s feet.” He laughs then, surprising himself, and Magnus, who chuckles, scratching a finger across his jaw.

It draws Alec's attention, again, to the stubble on his partner's cheeks, and he swallows again. 

 _Control,_ he reminds himself. _Get it together._

It's Magnus' words that surprise him this time. He says, quietly, “She doesn’t talk to people very much, you know. Madzie,” Magnus explains, a tentative smile on his face. “She clearly made an exception for you.”

“Oh,” Alec says. On instinct, he glances towards where the girl stands, waiting by the front door with a group of her classmates. The corners of his lips pull up, helplessly. Perhaps he isn’t the only one here feeling out of place after all.

"Did you have fun?"

Alec senses that Magnus' inquiry runs deeper. Yes, he's here because of a deal, but he suspects Magnus wouldn't have been annoyed if he cancelled. So when Magnus asks the question, Alec smiles.

"Yeah," he says, truthfully, "I did." 

The brilliant smile Magnus gives him in return sends warmth tingling across Alec's skin. 

A few minutes later, and most of the kids are heading out of the door. A few parents call out a goodbye to Magnus, and he offers them a friendly wave back, exchanging words with a few of them. 

“So,” Magnus says slowly, shrugging on his jacket. “Are you ready to _really_ Salsa dance?”

Alec meets his gaze, refusing to shy away this time. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks, surprised by how confident he sounds, and feels. 

Magnus’ look of amazement tuns to delighted glee. “Then we’d best get going,” he says cheerfully. On the way out, he pats Alec’s chest. The casual touch makes Alec’s breath catch a bit, but he conceals it. At least, he hopes he does. 

Strangely enough, as they hail a cab, telling the driver the club's address as they slide in, Alec comes to the realisation that he's actually excited. Okay. Not excited. But...curious. Ready to test his limits. 

He doesn’t go out much. Between tutoring and practises, he doesn't have much time. Besides, clubbing isn’t his thing, unlike Isabelle, who loves spending her nights out with Jace, or her friends. Also, his family aren’t exactly the going out for dinner together type either. But he likes New York, knows the area pretty well, and as he watches it pass by in a whirlwind of colour, he thinks, _the night has just begun._

New experiences, he’s come to realise, aren't so scary after all.

~

The corner of Madison Street, in Brooklyn, is already crowded with a long line of people waiting to get into the Latin club. 

It's fully dark outside now, late evening as their cab pulls up. They quickly pay the fare, and hop out, the pair shivering against the cool wind. 

"Damn it," Alec mutters, staring at the long queue. The club isn't pulsing loud music, however. It's got a nice charm to it, settled beside blocks of elegant apartments. The outside is painted a pretty, dark blue, with amber light streaming in from within. Somewhere inside, their friends are already waiting, having arranged to meet the pair here. In the end, Catarina, Jace and Izzy were the ones tagging along. Alec’s stream of text messages inform him that they’re already inside and enjoying themselves. Magnus’ friend, Maia, is also joining them, but Magnus says she’s running a bit late and will catch up soon.

“Busy shift. Bartender,” Magnus explains, a little distracted as he tries to push past the crowd outside. The club is loud, but organised, the line outside growing longer by the second. Alec ducks his head, not wanting to cause any trouble, but Magnus is keen to push through, and Alec hopes they’re not breaking in.

“Uh, shouldn’t we-“

“Queue?” Magnus calls out, half turning his head. “No. A good friend of mine owns this place," he explains. "He’s said to come right in.”

“Oh, okay.”

Deciding that’s enough of an explanation for now, Alec quits being hesitant and takes longer strides towards the entrance. True enough, when they reach the bouncers, Magnus offers them an infectious grin, and more importantly, their names. The guy nods, pulling aside the rope gate, and then they’re heading inside.

The first thing that stands out to Alec, is the atmosphere. Everyone is smiling, or embracing a friend, partner or stranger with the same degree of happiness. There’s zero tension in the room, no drunken dancers stumbling around or crowded bodies pressing together. It’s busy, yes, but not a storm of pushy people. The dancefloor is a little over halfway occupied, and the dancers are aware of their space, careful to look around before spinning out.

Most of the dancers are professionals, or at least know what they're doing.

Alec isn't sure whether to be pleased or anxious about this.

 _It's fine,_ he thinks, _no one knows you here._

Except his siblings. And one of Magnus' best friends.

Right, just them.

The club is made up of two floors of low lights, elegant columns and pulsing music. The rhythmic drums and songs already have Alec tapping his fingers against his thigh. The dancefloor is below, with a surrounding bar, and Alec can make out booths and a smaller dancefloor above them.

It’s onto the floor above that Magnus takes them to, up a corner staircase. Alec follows obediently, trailing a hand along the cool railing. It’s not stuffy or boiling, but it’s warm. Alec starts to shrug out of his jacket, plucking at the buttons as he examines the club.

“And here we are,” Magnus announces, tugging Alec around to a booth situated in a private corner, all lush, leather loungers and curtains to sweep aside. When he parts the sheer curtain, Alec’s friends offer happy smiles and waves. There’s also a stranger that Alec doesn’t recognise, but Magnus definitely does.

He exclaims happily, embracing the other guy as he comes over to meet the pair. The stranger is tall, with dark hair and one of those small smiles that suggests he doesn’t use it often. It’s clear that they’re close friends, and Alec waits patiently beside Magnus.

“It’s been a while, _amigo_ ,” the man says warmly, resting a hand on Magnus’ forearm. It seems like a gesture only acceptable for Magnus, so when the guy turns to him, Alec simply sticks out a hand for him to shake.

The other man accepts it, shaking it firmly. "Good evening," he says.

“This,” Magnus introduces, clapping a hand around the guy's shoulder, “is Raphael. He owns the beautiful venue you see before you.” Pride swells in his voice, and it’s so warm that Alec can’t help but smile at the stranger.

“That’s great,” he says. “Have you owned it long?”

Raphael shakes his head. “No, I haven’t," he admits. He inclines his head towards Magnus and says, "This one encouraged me to set up, a few years ago. I didn’t think it would get anywhere, but he swore otherwise.”

“And I’m always right,” Magnus points out, gesturing to the busy place. He pats Raphael’s arm and adds, “I always knew you’d succeed.”

Raphael’s smile turns bashful, making him suddenly look years younger. He’s only a few years – Alec estimates – younger than they are, but it makes him softer, warmer.

“Thank you for getting us onto the list. And on such short notice,” Magnus carries smoothly on, leading them into the booth. “I know how limited the places are.” Again, he says this proudly, glad that his friend is doing well. Alec watches as Raphael ducks his head, a bit sheepishly. His controlled expression is back moments later.

“This booth is all yours tonight,” Raphael says, placing his hands by his side. “I’m working downstairs, filling in for a bartender tonight, but if you need anything at all, let me know.”

He’s clearly not staying around long, but he’s been polite and gracious, and Alec tries to not look as terrified as he feels.

"Thanks," he offers. Raphael nods back politely. It's evident that the guy is a professional, in his element, and Alec doesn't want to waste anymore of his time. 

Magnus, on the other hand, grins. "Oh, my dear boy, there’s only one kind of trouble we’ll be getting in,” Magnus vows, “and that’s the stepping-on-toes kind.” 

Alec huffs out a laugh and retorts, "I have no idea what you’re referring to." 

Raphael leaves them to their antics, a warm smile on his face. When he's gone, Magnus turns to Alec. 

“Let’s get some drinks down you,” he suggests.

A nearby server offers them sparkling liquid served in flutes. After eye-rolling at the unnecessary fanciness, Alec surrenders. He offers the glasses around before taking one off the tray for himself.

The others are already having a good time, or so it seems. Jace and Catarina are having a passionate discussion about work-outs in the corner, and Izzy is listening, chiming in occasionally, but she perks up when the pair slide along the chair.

"Good to see you, big brother," Isabelle says slyly, like she's expected him to run for the door. 

He narrows his eyes. "You too, Iz. I think."

She laughs, and Alec joins in, placing a quick kiss to her forehead. 

They sit and chat together for a short while, and Alec soaks up the energy of the place. It’s not just visually colourful, but its energy is humming like a song of its own. The music isn’t drowning out the conversation. It’s just the right volume. Small lights hang overhead, warm oranges and reds giving the club a sunset mood, like the dancers are taking their last chance to dance in the light.

It reminds Alec of the Tango they’re dancing for the semi-finals. He knows tonight is a night to stop thinking about the work, but it’s actually helping. Being here, basking in the new dance, and opening up to the many, colourful worlds of dance, is doing exactly what Magnus hoped.

It gets Alec to stop thinking. He’s not clinging to past ideals or fears. He’s just…here, in the simplest, rawest form of himself.

“You haven’t even touched your glass yet,” Magnus points out. His matching pout is rather impressive. 

Alec laughs, taking a small sip to please him. “There? Better?” he says dryly. The victory is broken when he starts to cough. The bubbles tickle his nose, but the taste isn’t awful, so he finishes the glass, slowly. The buzz is nice, but they’re not here to get shamefully drunk. There’s a charm to the Salsa club, and Alec doesn’t notice anyone else throwing themselves around drunkenly.

Sitting here, with his friends, and Magnus, is something Alec enjoys. A lot. It feels natural and right, and dare he say, fun.

A short while after the pair arrive, the curtain to their booth parts once more. A girl with tight, dark curls and a wolfish grin enters the fray. She's wearing a turquoise satin shirt, black pants and a choker, her golden hoop earrings catching the light.

Magnus stands, moving in that graceful, deliberate manner that Alec is drawn in by. He watches as Magnus greets the girl with a quick kiss to the cheek, before leading her over to introduce her the rest of their group.

"This, my dears," Magnus says, "is Maia. She dances for _Pandemonium_. She took Silver last year," he says. He smiles fondly at the mention of his old Latin School. 

"Yeah, only because my partner wasn't up to speed," Maia says. There's a pleasant quality to her low drawl, and the glint in her eyes. It's playful, but instead of Magnus' charm, Maia's look is fierce, less cat-like, more upfront. Proud.

Magnus nods in agreement. His gaze narrows in on Alec's sister, extending a painted nail as he points to Izzy. With a grin, he gestures for her to come over. Alec shifts to the side to let Isabelle stand, and walk over. He watches, eyes narrowed, interest piqued.

“I think,” Magnus is saying, when Izzy is closer, “that you two will get along great.”

Maia eyes up Isabelle with a careful look. She’s hostile, but not rude. “Can she dance this kind?" Maia asks, pointing to the floor below. "Or do I have to lead?”

Okay. Maybe the girl is a _bit_ hostile.

Isabelle doesn’t seem too affected. She grins slowly, and from his sitting point, Alec thinks that his sister looks unbeatable; the pulsing lights making her eyes glow like firelight. 

“No one leads me, _hermosa_. Besides-“ Isabelle tosses her hair back over her shoulder – “I doubt you could keep up.”

Maia narrows her eyes. She unfurls a hand, gaze turning dangerously focused. “We’ll see about that, Cinderella. Can you even dance in those shoes?”

“Come and find out,” Izzy dares, already backing out of the booth as she heads for the floor. Maia follows, after letting out a huffing sound that might be a scoff or a laugh, and the two girls disappear down onto the dancefloor.

Magnus grins, victorious.

As he sits down again, Alec shakes his head, amused. "Well that wasn't subtle. At all," he adds pointedly. He knows his sister can handle herself, however, and finds himself equally entertained by Magnus' partner matchmaking.

Magnus shrugs, not even attempting to deny it. "She'll need a partner, if she wins this year."

"Oh, she will," Alec says. Now it's his turn to smile proudly. If Magnus thinks Maia might be a good partner for Izzy, then who is he to judge? Until recently, he thought dancing with anyone but Isabelle was a bad idea.

Look at him now, sitting beside the partner he never saw coming, but now, wouldn't give up the world for. 

"Are my eyes smudged?"

"W-what?" Alec stutters, blinking as Magnus' eyes widen. He didn't realise he'd been staring. "Oh, no," he says quickly. "Nothing's wrong with your eyes. They're...very you," he finishes, wringing his hands in his lap. Hopefully the low lights will conceal his flush.

Magnus makes a pleased sound in he back of his throat. "Thank you," he murmurs, silky-smooth, but suddenly lower. Alec shifts again.

They don't say anything else. Alec lets the music fill up the silence, and sips - slowly, this time - from his drink. Magnus is more than happy to soak it up, and after a couple more songs, Izzy and Maia still aren't back. 

"Do you think they've set anything on fire?"

"Each other?" Magnus jokes. "Or the club, together?" 

Alec laughs, throwing his head back. He's not sure who would win that fight, but the club would certainly pay for it. A moment later, he catches Jace's stare, a look of complete and utter shock on his best friend's face. Alec shrugs, quickly turning away before Jace can wink, or chime in with a little comment. 

As the current song comes to an end, the two girls come back, pushing through the partition again. Their faces are flushed from the dancing, but they're grinning, chatting animatedly together. Alec takes this as a good sign, and shifts to let them take a seat to his left again.  

Magnus leans in, holding his glass up, and Alec lets him clink his against the glass.

“To us,” Magnus says.

Alec grins back. He likes the sounds of ‘us’.

As Izzy drags Jace off for a dance, leaving Maia and Cat to get acquainted, Alec starts to feel the warmth of the liquor slide down his throat. The music changes again, and that nervous energy inside of his body starts to build up. As anxious as he is, waiting is worse. He knows that Magnus wants to dance. The guy is practically on the edge, but Alec smugly senses that he's waiting for Alec to make the offer.

Which Alec will most certainly _not_.

The little game they're accidentally playing comes to an end rather quickly.

After the next song, Magnus finally turns to him and asks, "So, are you intoxicated enough yet?” He cocks his head in the direction of the downstairs dancefloor. 

“Barely,” Alec mutters. His fingers tap against the rim of the glass. There’s a light buzz warming his stomach, but he can still feel the prickling anxiety on the surface. The songs are so fast. How the hell is anyone supposed to keep up?

_You find a good partner._

Betrayed by his own logic, Alec shrugs, stubborn till the end. “I’ll dance when a slower song comes on,” he says flatly.

“So, never?”

“Exactly.”

“Alexander,” Magnus protests. He’s got that wounded look mastered to perfection because now Alec wants to dance. Sort of.

"Look, soon, I promise, I just-"

Suddenly, and he’s not sure if this makes him cursed or blessed – maybe both – a slower song begins. The drum beats are slow and rhythmic, the melody a playful, sensual tune.

"Oh, come _on_ ," Alec mumbles.

Magnus is already up on his feet, crooning with a finger. With his other hand, he plucks the glass from Alec's hands, placing it on the table. 

Alec doesn't move a muscle. He's sure the alarm in his expression is pretty evident, because Magnus leans forwards.

"Just one dance," he promises, "and then we can go. But...I think you'll be surprised by how much you enjoy yourself. Trust me," he adds, voice softening as he smiles.

At that, he relaxes. Because Alec does trust Magnus. Completely. 

“Alright,” Alec says, slipping his hand into the other guy’s. Although Magnus doesn’t visibly react, Alec watches as his lips twitch, holding in his triumphant surprisingly well. 

Ignoring the sweeping fear prickling across his skin, Alec follows Magnus as they step downstairs, and head onto the floor.

The sheer material of Magnus’ shirt grazes Alec’s fingers, but he holds on as Magnus guides him onto the floor. There’s enough couples dancing for it to feel comfortable, yet it’s not packed. It’s unfairly perfectly spacious because now Alec doesn’t have reasons _not_ to dance.

At this point, Alec's determined to enjoy himself. Out of spite to prove his own doubts wrong. 

His attention is suddenly diverted. Magnus takes both of his hands in his. “Ready?” he asks, a smile lilting his voice. There’s a gentleness still, but the music is doing something to his grin, because Alec feels suddenly aware that this dance is actually happening. Right now. Right here.

But he’s danced with Magnus before. Why is it different this time?

Because, he guesses, this time it’s not professionals at work. It’s friends. And Alec’s body is reacting in ways that’s crossing the line.

The song is easy to pick up. Its beat drums into the floor, and with the sounds of heels and laughter mixing in, there’s no reason to feel tense.

Taking a deep breath, Alec nods, because he notes that Magnus hasn’t stepped any closer. He’s holding Alec’s hands in his, hips swaying naturally. When Alec nods, Magnus’ expression changes, accepting permission.

Finally, he begins to move.

Alec has watched Magnus dance a lot now, from practises to Latin, to contests. He’s never danced like _this_ with him, being led with such a carefree sway.

The dance requires a lot of improvisation. Alec lets Magnus guide him through the steps. He lifts their arms, or turns Alec out, only to slowly bring him back around to face him. The dance doesn’t move a lot. It’s all in the little details. At one point, Magnus has a hand pressed to Alec’s back, drawing him closer. The gasp that escapes from Alec’s lips is too quiet to be overheard, but Magnus’ eyes are much closer now, and the burning intensity of his gaze makes it harder to conceal.

There’s a secret in the movements. Only both dancers know the steps, the improvisations feeling natural because of the trust. Again, Alec is overwhelmed by how easily he trusts his partner.

But he doesn’t trust his own feelings anymore.

He’s so acutely aware of Magnus’ fingers pressing into his spine, or later, loosely encircling his wrist as he lifts Alec’s arms up, slowly turning him around once more. He’s drawn in, unable to keep from using their closeness to his advantage.

The sensuality of the music is hard to ignore. It's slow and arousing, and Alec sucks in a lungful of air. 

He lets Magnus turn him around, now flush against his chest, and a groan escapes Alec's lips. He doesn't even care if Magnus hears it. He’s sure he can’t. Alec's lids flutter, lost in a warm haze. His senses are picking up everything; smooth wood beneath his feet, soft hands holding his, and a guy who’s not torn his eyes away from him since the dance begun. Magnus’ gaze isn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it’s encouraging. Not pitying, either, just…focused.

The Salsa, Alec decides, speaks in a language of subtle touches; loose fingers that trust their partner to turn them, feet that are ready to change direction.

The music quietens, and Alec inhales, returning air to his lungs, and lifting a hand to wipe across his forehead. His hands come back damp with sweat, and he’s sure his cheeks are just as flushed as Magnus’ are. Up close, under the sunset lights flickering down overhead, he looks heavenly, and Alec digs his nails into his palm to quit from touching him again.

He’s just about to gesture for them to leave when the next song comes on. Faster. Playful. Sensual. Everything that Alec yearns to give into.

He doesn’t have much of a choice, because Magnus sways back over to him. He hooks his fingers in the belt loop of Alec’s pants, and tugs. Alec stumbles forwards, back into his arms.

“No,” Alec quickly mutters. “No, come on. You said one,” he protests, but it’s a weak one. He swallows, eyes flicking down to where Magnus’ palms are now flat against his chest. His fingers toy with the buttons, thumb brushing over his chest with tantalising slowness. 

Magnus cocks his head, body swaying to the new song. “But I like this song, Alec,” he murmurs. “Indulge me?”

And because Alec foolishly lets his body obey him, he finds himself nodding.

It’s all Magnus needs. The guy grins, beautiful and fierce, and _god_ , Alec is going to die in the best way possible.

Magnus lifts his right arm, twirling him around, quickly, and Alec follows his direction, again. He’s pulled in, leg lifting on instinct. It hooks around Magnus’ hip, and he definitely hears Magnus gasp that time. He lowers it quickly, and they move on, but Alec feels the pressure start to build.

Magnus keeps a bit of space between them, but their hands stay entwined. Halfway through the song, Alec’s breathes are growing more laboured, but he’s smiling, the joy of the dance, of the Salsa’s freedom, and Magnus’ pleased grin, are infectious. 

The song is faster, a blend of beats and electronic base. 

Magnus catches him by surprise a few moments later. As he spins Alec around, he then tugs him firmly, so that Alec falls back, and Magnus dips him, hand protecting his neck as he leans back. They barely hold the pose for a second, but Magnus glances down, and Alec grins. His cheeks are burning, and his throat is getting dry now, yet the thrill of giving over trust to his partner is enthralling. He’s never been dipped in his life.

He sort of wants to do it again.

Too soon, the song fades out. 

 _Too soon._ When did Alec start not wanting it to end?

As the music fades into the next song, Magnus doesn't press for another dance. He nods, surveying Alec with an endearingly proud look in his eyes.

“Alright, Alexander," he says, "you’re free to go."

The hoarseness in Magnus' voice sends sparks down Alec’s arms. He shivers, hiding it as they turn around. Magnus’ arm brushes his, and as they walk back up the stairs, his gaze is firmly locked on the sway of Magnus’ hips.

“Magnus,” Alec hears himself say, and he leans in, lips close to Magnus ear, “can we get out of here?”

Although Magnus’ face falls, he nods, and they say their goodbyes before heading out of the club. The others are staying for a bit, and Alec makes Izzy promise to give him a call if she’s staying out into the early hours of the morning. Jace just pats his arm, nods and tells Alec to get out while he can.

Alec glances at Magnus as they leave, their hands brushing slightly.

He swallows.

 _Can I get out of this one?_ he wonders.

Magnus grins across at him. Heart thudding - and hopelessly falling more by the second - Alec accepts that whatever happens, feelings for someone as great as Magnus aren’t something to shy away from.

~

They come to a joint decision to walk back. It’s barely a twenty minute walk to Magnus' loft, and the night is nicely warm for a late evening in May. They take back roads, the streets quieter and lined with pretty, red-bricked houses. They cut through a small park at one point, surrounded by greenery and a quiet evening.

Occasionally, they make conversation. Alec asks about the competition, and Magnus, in return, asks how Alec is doing. 

But mainly, it’s nice to simply walk, and enjoy that silence that comes from enjoying the company more than the need to fill the quiet up with useless words.

Alec’s jacket is slung over his shoulder, his free hand shoved into his pocket. Beside him, Magnus is quiet, but his expression is relaxed, his lips parting slightly.  

“I can’t remember the last time I strolled through the city, you know,” Magnus says. They’re almost at Magnus’ apartment, and Alec starts to feel disappointed that their time is almost up.

“It’s nice,” Alec offers. He licks his lips, trying to think of something else to say. There are many questions he wants to ask, or things he wants to share, but it doesn’t feel right. The evening was an enjoyable one. He doesn’t want to risk threatening that.

“Oh,” Magnus suddenly says, quietly exclaiming. His head is turned to the left, glancing down at the small street road stretching out.

Alec arches an eyebrow. What's his partner up to now?

Magnus turns to him, and before Alec can question it, he tugs at Alec’s hand, encouraging him to take the small detour.

As soon as the streetlamps make the path brighter, Alec realises why. The cobbled road is smooth and narrow, the streetlamps lining the road, spreading a warm glow over the path. The silence is tense, waiting. Their heels click against the street as they cross over to it.

The path is also, as Alec catches on, something that’s sparked an idea in Magnus’ mind.

“Places like this are where the Argentine Tango was traditionally danced,” Magnus finally says. He extends his arms, slowly smiling. “You like tradition, don’t you, Alexander?” The teasing in his voice is rich and husky.

Alec says, “Yeah.”

And then he realises what he’s agreeing to.

“Come on,” he says, deadpan. “Really? Here? You want to dance here?” He glances around. Yes, it's completely empty, but he feels self-conscious again.

“Why not?”

Alec thinks for a few seconds. “Well, music for starters," he says. "We have none.”

There. Now it's decided.

The ache in his chest is suddenly there again, and he doesn't know why. Alec digs a toe into a gap between the cobblestone. 

Magnus chuckles. “So what? We don’t need it,” he says. He’s standing closer now, heels clicking pleasantly against the black cobblestone. The thrill of that word again, that enchanting ‘we’ steals Alec’s breath. He stays very still.

Magnus places a palm against his chest, covering his shirt. “You can _feel_ it.”

After that, denial is long gone. Alec believes Magnus' words. He also understands, because his heartbeat is drumming out a rhythm of its own now, and Magnus’ voice could guide him through any silence. 

This is different to any dance that's come before. This is outside of his world, out of the training room, into some private, small corner of the world that's entirely _theirs_.

He nods, this time taking Magnus by surprise and lifting a hand up, bringing the other guy into dance hold. Magnus stiffens, as though he wasn’t expecting Alec to actually go ahead and do the dance, but then he sighs, muscles releasing their tension.

"Did I say, before, that I like this shirt?" Magnus says quietly. His free hand brushes over Alec's chest again. He smiles. "It matches your eyes," Magnus says. 

Alec doesn't speak, fairly sure there's nothing to be said to that. Magnus is watching him intently, waiting for him to move. 

Alec doesn’t even count them in. There are no words necessary.

With a shaky exhale, and a light-headed haze, Alec begins the dance.

Just like with the Waltz, their impromptu Tango unfurls in sensations. It’s less about following every step, or being led. It’s _feeling_ them, Alec knowing that the entirety of his body is aligning to dance.

He catches snippets of the moment. Highs and lows. The sound of heels against the cobbled street, breathes pushing from each other’s lips. It’s the most raw and intimate thing Alec’s ever done in his life. It’s dancing with body, heart and soul, aware of every step, but also every future step. Time doesn’t exist. The dance creates the axis in which Alec’s world spins dizzily around.

Actually, he’s not dizzy at all. This is the clearest-minded he’s ever been.

Magnus was right. Stepping out of his comfort zone is working. He's not just changing, Alec can feel his steps _thriving_ , pulsing with new life.

The dance starts to come to an end, returning to Magnus’ Argentine-inspired choreography. They stay very still, chests close together.

It's strange. When Magnus encouraged him to push back, to fight, it felt right. But now, it no longer feels constricting. They're not fighting for control, but yearning to make the other stay.

Alec’s leg slips between Magnus’, thighs burning as they touch. Alec leans in, leg curling around the back of Magnus’ calf. His lips are far too close, but he tells himself he can’t pull away now. It’ll ruin the moment, ruin the dance. And if he can complete this, he can know what to aim for the next time they’re in the training room.

He’s finally understanding the Tango. And understanding himself too. Alec’ll be damned if he gives up now.

Pulling back, the final few steps are danced, quickly and easily, and then Alec gets hit with the reckless, impossible idea to grip Magnus’ hips, and lift him into the air.

So he gives into it. He does it. He throws out the rules and lifts Magnus.

Magnus isn’t ready for it. He gasps, arms snaking around Alec's neck. His fingers burn into Alec's skin, marking him with delicious heat. On instinct, Magnus' legs form the shape for the flying fan, and he’s trusting Alec to slowly spin him around. Which he does, eyes locked together. And it's the opposite of wrong, and nontraditional. It's sincere. It's passionate. It's like nothing Alec's ever felt before. 

Silence falls.

The dance is ending, but Alec still has his arms around Magnus’ waist, carefully balancing the guy’s weight.

Every nerve on his body is singing. There's no music, but there's a secret melody calling to him. Magnus' song, a song of trust, compassion and dedication.

Chest stuttering, Alec carefully lowers Magnus back to the ground, shifting his weight slowly. On the way down, Magnus’ nose brushes his, and his eyelids flutter, half-closed, lazily focusing. Looking up from beneath long lashes, an unreadable look comes across Magnus’ face. Alec can’t work it out, but he swears it’s relief. Relief and _longing_.

Alec knows it because he’s already succumbed to it. He can see it reflected back at him, in the eyes of a dancer who’s trusting him, and leading him at the same time.

“That,” Magnus murmurs, palms once again flat against Alec's chest, “is how you dance the Tango. All, or nothing. Blood, desire and desperation.” Magnus' breath ghosts against Alec’s lips, a heated edge to his voice. It’s still silky-smooth, but lower now, stirring with hunger.

Alec doesn’t pull away. His hands are around Magnus’ waist, fingers dancing across the back of his spine. It makes the other guy shiver, and Alec bites back another groan. He wants this. He wants _Magnus_ , in all his entirety.

Magnus’ lips are soft and inviting, the streetlamp glow teasing across the top of his head like a halo.

“Every step is the last one you’ll ever take,” Magnus says. He looks up, holding Alec's gaze. “Each touch is the final one. And, each moment,” Magnus says quietly, “needs to be danced like it’s unbreakable. Like it’s _immortal_.”

The way he breathes out the word transfixes Alec. 

It's too late to turn back now.

Alec tightens his hands around Magnus’ waist, and finally, dips his head, crushing his lips to Magnus’. Magnus is ready and waiting. He willingly reciprocates, lips parting, and hands wrapping around Alec’s neck, keeping him close. The first kiss is short, brief. It's a quick answer, an agreement. And then Magnus pushes closer, tongue teasing across Alec's lower lip. He groans into the kiss, deepening it on instinct. Everything about it is intuition. Impulse and desire. 

But Magnus' arms are wrapped firmly around his neck, unmoving, and Alec understands perfectly now. Intimacy isn’t going to break him, or be his undoing. It’s going to save him, make him stronger. It dissolves his fears, or makes him brave enough to face them, to stand up and deal with the world.

There's a brief pause, lips resting between kisses, when Alec just gazes across, takes in Magnus' flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. 

He grins, helplessly, and Magnus returns it. And then his smirk shifts, turns exasperatingly seductive. 

He pushes back against Alec's chest, and Alec willingly steps back, until his shoulders hit a streetlamp. It keeps him upright and pinned, and Magnus doesn't give him a second longer. He lifts his chin, and then his lips are back and warm against Alec's. Alec closes his eyes and the amber glow from the lamp lights up behind his closed eyelids. It’s like a spark rippling across his chest. It burns in the best way.

It’s also gentle. His back might be pressing firmly against a lamppost, but Magnus’ wandering hands are careful. His fingers curl in Alec’s shirt, shaking and forceful all at once. Alec gives back. With everything he has. 

They spend minutes like that, kissing under the streetlamps, on a beautiful cobbled pathway that's soaking into Alec's blood like magic. It's soft and sweet, the kisses turning gentle. Alec's hands stroke across Magnus' cheeks, brushing down his jaw, finally resting against his stubble. It feels as good as Alec thought it would, and Magnus grins, as if he knows.

"One more," Magnus mumbles, when Alec suggests they get back to walking. Alec doesn't protest, and kisses Magnus again. 

~

When they eventually finish their walk to Magnus' loft, Alec surrenders and calls a cab. He's exhausted, yet so awake, aware of Magnus' hand in his as they stroll back to his place. 

It's clear that something's changed, but Alec knows if he goes any further tonight, he'll regret it. Not because he doesn't want it - or that Magnus doesn't - but there's no need to rush. He likes the newness, the discoveries.

His cab arrives, and Magnus glares at it, making Alec unable to hold in his laughter. Just before he slides into the back, he can’t help but close the distance between them again. He dips his head, kissing Magnus, fingers curling around his jaw. Magnus holds onto Alec’s hands, stroking across his knuckles, and he only breaks away because he starts to smile.

Alec decides that kissing Magnus is a delight, but watching his smile grow because of him is equally beautiful.

He’s never believed that he could fall for someone like Magnus. Better yet, the guy likes him back, and trusts him.

"S-see you soon?" Alec manages to stutter out.

"Yes," Magnus says slyly. "We have important training to do, remember?"

Alec kisses him to wipe the smug grin off his face, but he gets the feeling that Magnus considers this another victory. 

"Yeah," Alec mumbles. "I, uh, better go." His gaze hovers between Magnus' face, and the loft above, but again, he knows it's good to wait. He wants this to be more than a one-time encounter, and judging by how Magnus' expression suddenly softens, he knows he's on the same train of thought.

"Goodnight, Alexander," Magnus says, and he presses one final, soft kiss to Alec's lips, the pressure building slowly.

Alec lingers in it, tastes champagne and mint on Magnus' tongue. He blinks, slowly coming back to himself, and finds Magnus standing halfway in the door. He winks as he waves, and Alec watches him walk up the stairs, pressing a hand against his heart. It's still thudding away, no sign of calming yet. 

Realising that the parked car is still waiting, Alec shakes his head quickly. He climbs in, muttering out an apology to the driver, who looks more entertained that angry. 

As the cab pulls away, Alec forces himself not to give into the childish urge to press against the glass window and watch Magnus.

The driver huffs out a laugh. “Good night, huh?”

Alec is too buzzed to feel embarrassed.

He smirks. “Yeah. It really was.”

He considers texting Izzy, but decides that that's a conversation to have in person.

For now, he leans his head against the window, and smiles.

~

Typically waking to the sounds of meowing cats and an alarm clock isn’t the worst way to spend a morning.

But waking to the additional memory of chasing Alec’s lips under a streetlamp is by _far_ , the best way to wake.

Magnus grins so widely that Chairman actually swipes a paw at his owner’s mouth, as if to inquire why he has to put up with so much happiness before being fed. Magnus hums as he feeds his darling cats. He switches on the radio and turns it up. It’s a good song. It’s a beautiful song.

“Oh, today is beautiful,” Magnus mumbles, mouth half-full with toast. He’s talking to the cats, but they’re switching between eating, and staring at their owner’s overeager excitement for an apparently mundane Saturday morning.

“Yes, I know,” he says, “I am a fully grown adult. I have kissed many people. I should not be this happy, but, oh,” he sighs again, reaching to take a sip of coffee. “Coffee has nothing on Alec. Nothing at all.”

Chairman peers up at him, blinking a couple of times as if to say, _are you okay?_

“I am very okay, dear,” Magnus promises, crouching down to smile at the solemn cat. He holds out a hand, and Chairman nudges his forehead into Magnus’ hand, before turning and walking away again.

Taking that as a sign, Magnus gets dressed quickly, choosing a black and red tartan shirt, black pants, and a handful of his favourite necklaces. He’s halfway through applying some kohl liner, when his phone vibrates on the desk beside his mirror.

He swipes it, unlocking it.

The text announcement invites the return of his helplessly wide smile. The one apparently reserved only for the guy texting him on a Saturday morning at nine am.

Alec's text reads:

_Hey, I know you have a client appointment this morning, but if you’re free later, come by the School?_

_I have some ideas for the routine. If that’s okay?_

_I had a great time last night. I hope you did._

_The club was fun, but I liked the after part the most._

Magnus grins, tapping the phone against his lips. He rolls his eyes then, understanding why the cats are fed up of his cheery victory. It’s just a kiss.

Okay, a lot of kisses.

But it’s not, Magnus knows, _just_ a guy. It’s Alec, and he’s special. They’re special.

He’s hoped, for a while, that they could work something out. After last night, Magnus is sure that they’re heading on the right path. He scans over the text again, smiling as he imagines Alec overthinking the last line. He wonders if Isabelle forced her brother to click send.

He types a quick response, locks the cell phone again, and shoves it into the pocket of his pants. As nice as it will be to daydream about his new romance, he does, unfortunately, have an appointment to keep, and pissing off engaged clients is never a good idea.

He grabs the couples’ choreography sheets he’s drafted up, places them carefully in his bag, and heads for the door, blowing the cats a couple of kisses as he goes.

It really is going to be a good day, he hopes.

~

“I have been waiting for this moment for years.”

“Exaggeration, much? We only met a few months ago, Iz.”

“And,” she says loudly, pointedly speaking over his mumble, “I would just like to thank everyone – and I have no idea who – who encouraged Alec to go Salsa dancing last night. Whoever they are, they’re really smart. And deserve a big hug. Right now.”

Wrapping his arms around her, reluctantly, but albeit pleased, Alec mutters out a quick, “Thank you, Iz. You’re the wisest of us all.”

“Sarcasm not needed, but I’ll take it,” she says happily. This time, her hug is tentative, and it catches up with Alec that his sister really is always on his side, just like he is for her.

“Thank you,” he repeats, quietly this time. “For always being here.”

“Can I be the one to tell Jace? Please-“

“No,” he cuts her off, shaking his head fondly. Really, his sister takes far too much enjoyment from a simple kiss. Alec knows it’s more than that, but he worries that saying it out loud will change things. But as soon as Isabelle came into the training room where Alec was running over an idea, it all came pouring out; his feelings for Magnus, the kiss, the insecurities. 

"I'll tell Jace myself, thanks."

And now he's standing with a gloating Isabelle, letting her excitement warm his anxieties away.

“Tell Jace what?” Jace comes in, head peaking around the door.

_Seriously?_

“Oh, come on,” Alec mutters. He gestures hastily for Jace to come in. When he fills his best friend in, he has to go through the delighted teases once more. He endures it with ease, however, too relieved to be sharing the reason behind his restless night’s sleep.

“Did you kiss him first?” Jace demands, with all the eager excitement of a kid at a sleepover.

Alec stares at him. Is his love life really the most worthy thing of discussion right now?

As he offers a few details, he finds himself realising that he doesn’t mind at all. In fact, it’s oddly nice to talk about. He’s not just content, and happy, but Alec accepts that the warm feeling in his chest is pride. He’s proud to be talking about himself. And Magnus.

Izzy’s expression shifts, as though noticing his thoughts. “Hey,” she says, “we’re here for you, okay? Don’t do what you always do, and overthink.”

“I don’t overthink,” Alec says flatly. He stares at the wall, avoiding her gaze. 

Jace nods solemnly. “You do, buddy," he says, voice quiet. "You’ve literally had the same coffee order since you were thirteen." He pats Alec's arm affectionately. "It’s okay to break from your comfort zone. If it makes you happy." 

“Right. Uh, thanks. For the advice.” Alec shakes his head, trying to bring an end to this awkward, if not endearing, display of weird affection and support. He does have a routine to work on, once Magnus arrives. 

Isabelle, however, isn’t done. She grins, shaking her head in disbelief. “Can you believe it? My brother. Dating Magnus Bane. Two of my favourite people.” Before either of her brothers can reply, she adds, “I can’t believe Magnus didn’t tell me he was going to make a move. I had an excellent wing-woman plan ready.”

“You what?” Alec blurts out.

No trace of guilt can be found in her expression. “What?" Isabelle shrugs. "You needed a push, I was just gonna, you know…push,” she finishes, fist-bumping his shoulder affectionately. Jace gives her a proud look, shrugging when Alec glares at him. 

"What? You don't usually take risks, buddy," Jace points out, but his smile is soft and understanding. "Good job," he says. 

Isabelle sighs, shaking her head. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me he was going to make a move.”

Before Alec can retort, or polite ask them to move on, he hears someone clear their throat.

A voice says, "Isabelle, really. Have you little faith in my charms?"

The trio shuffle as Magnus' gaze combs over them. He strides into the training room, looking gorgeous as always, before facing them with an amused look. 

"Don't you two have work to do? Elsewhere?" Magnus says, iron behind the sweetness. He narrows his eyes. Jace is the first to break.

"Right, yeah, I've got a regular to keep happy," Jace says, offering Alec a quick smile. Alec nods, urging to him leave. Jace isn't a dancer, but he does work as a personal trainer, for the School, and for a private gym across the road, splitting his time between the two. Isabelle walks out with him, but not before offering Magnus a cheerful grin. 

"Mom wants to see the dance later," she tells the pair. "Just…a heads up. But have fun, you two,” Izzy adds, her sweet smile not fooling anyone.

When the door closes, Alec comes over to stand before Magnus, waiting until he's shoved his bag onto the bench to greet him. 

“Hey,” Alec says. Now that he's arrived, the memory of last night comes back even more vividly. He's still got the taste of Magnus on his tongue. He can still feel his hands, warm and firm against his cheeks, and back. 

Magnus smiles. "Hey, yourself," he says, his shoulder swaying a touch. 

“So, you’re here. Obviously,” Alec adds, an awkward laugh coming from him.

“I’m where I want to be, Alexander,” Magnus says quietly, “yes.”

For some reason, the simple words sooth Alec’s nervous energy. He’s still shuffling on his feet, but between Magnus’ open expression, and his own hesitant smile, Alec decides to bridge the gap.

He plucks some courage up, steps forwards, and dips his head, lips pressing to Magnus’. The other guy is expecting it, but a small sigh still pushes between their lips. Magnus eases closer, the pressure in the kiss increasing. This kiss, unlike the ones last night, isn’t rushed at all. They have time, and they let it build. Magnus’ hands are resting against his hips. Alec likes this, that they can touch casually, and greet each other with kisses. It’s an activity he’d like to repeat. Regularly.

Which means that he should probably say something, just to confirm.

Magnus beats him to it.

“And a good afternoon to you too,” he says, playful at first. When Alec replies with a self-satisfied grin, Magnus’ own smirk comes back, bright and carefree.

“So,” Magnus says. “Does the entire School now know about our relationship?”

 _Relationship_.

If Magnus is waiting for denial, or an argument, Alec doesn’t give him one. He quickly shakes his head, keeping the nice closeness between their bodies.

“I don’t think so,” he says, eye-rolling as he adds, “but I wouldn’t put it past Iz to tell Clary and Simon.” He's not seen the pair since the qualifiers, but he's sure they'll be keen to tease him. 

“We can handle those two,” Magnus dismisses. “But…you’re okay? With this? Us?”

Lips suddenly dry, Alec feels his tongue dart out to wet them. Magnus follows the movement, Adam’s apple bobbing pleasantly as he swallows.

“I think I made that clear last night,” Alec says, surprised by how ragged his breathing is. Already. 

It makes Magnus blink, and then his expression turns gleeful. The kind that’s part playful, part dangerous - because this is a work space, and Alec’s thoughts are not professional right now. At all.

“Good,” Magnus says, “because I am too. Even though it may take some effort, given the competitions.”

Alec nods. “I hear that relationships, well, they take effort," he murmurs quietly. "We’ll manage,” he quickly adds, not wanting Magnus to mistake his briskness for uncaring. Because he does care. Alec cares enough to push through the hesitations and the risks, to _try_.

Magnus seems to get this. His smile softens at the corners.

He reaches out with a hand, cupping Alec’s jaw. “I’m all for effort, Alexander.”

His fingers are soft and warm, but the rings on Magnus’ fingers are soothingly cool. Alec instinctively presses closer, pushing his cheek into Magnus’ palm.

He straightens up after a few more seconds, gesturing to the space. “So," he begins, "the idea I messaged you about…”

~

The next week passes by incredibly quickly.

Magnus expects the new relationship buzz to keep going, but this is something else entirely. He’s endured teasing from his friends - Cat and Ragnor are delighted and not shocked at all. He's faced all of Alec’s siblings - the fourth Lightwood, Max, just shrugs and carries on as normal - but it’s still not wiping the smile off his face.

Beforehand, simply having Alec’s friendship was rewarding, but this is different. Getting to skim his fingers down Alec's jaw, feel stubble against his cheeks, and share kisses, is like rediscovering a sense. If possible, he yearns even _more_ now.

Of course, they’re professionals, which means knowing when to concentrate and work through their routine.

Especially when Maryse is prone to popping in every now and again, without a word of warning. Magnus knows Alec is happier, and growing more open with his affections, but Magnus knows they’re not at the stage of flouncing it before his mother just yet.

She watches the entire of their routine the following Thursday afternoon, and Magnus is determined to dance it through flawlessly. Which, thankfully, they do. Alec’s back arches, his head turns sharply, and he hits every music cue. Magnus is right there with him, diving into the music, and the strong lines of the Tango.

They finish, chests heaving, sweat lining their foreheads. They turn to face Maryse.

She surveys them, the silence pregnant with rising tension, but neither of them speak. Her lips are stretched thin, but Magnus realises – triumphantly – that she’s quiet because she can’t think of a bad word to say about the dance.

An unreadable look flashes over her face.

“It’s fine,” she eventually says, but Magnus senses that she’s not done yet. Maryse’s eyes narrow. “But you’re taking out that lift.”

“Why?” Magnus asks, matching her steady coolness. If she wants to play with fire, she’ll be surprised to find how calculating her son’s partner can be. If she expects temper, she’ll get a steady anger instead; one that Magnus knows how to use, how to turn into a victory.

“It’s improper.”

“It’s a basic Gold lift,” Magnus calmly counteracts, “and it serves as a transition. Removing it means reworking that section.” He senses Alec stiffen beside him, catches that he wants to say something too.

“That’s not my problem,” Maryse bites back.

Alec finds his voice again. He steps forwards, half holding his arms out, like a peace offering. “Mom,” he says, “Iz and I always do at least three lifts.”

“Well, you’re not dancing with your sister, are you?”

Getting ready to suggest another argument, Alec then nods. His expression changes so quickly that Magnus is startled into silence again.

“Alright,” Alec agrees. “We won’t do a single lift. Thank you for coming in to watch.”

Stunned, Magnus watches as Maryse nods, smiling now that she’s got her obedient son back on her side, and then leaves the room. She leaves frustration and tension in her midst, and a silent Alec who’s watching his mother leave with a flat look in his usually warm eyes.

“Alexander?” Magnus quietly asks. Hurt weakens the word, makes it come out sounding terribly young.

Alec’s eyes widen. He shakes his head, hair falling across his eyes. “No, no,” he quickly says, coming over to face Magnus, “I just knew she’d never give in. I said we wouldn’t do a single lift. Not one.”

Magnus cocks his head, taking in the mischievous grin pulling at the corners of Alec’s lips.

“Not one, Magnus,” Alec repeats, “but _two_.”

"Oh. I see. Wait, I'm sorry, what?"

Alec chuckles at the look of confusion on his face. “Our closing section isn't finished, and, well, there’s a lift that Izzy and I love, uh, it’s actually my favourite,” Alec admits, cheeks flushing. "I’ve always done the lifting, obviously, but…”

He gestures between them, smile turning shy. 

“You want me to lift you?”

“That way, we switch. Two lifts. If you want to. I just…I thought it’d fit with the whole, you know, equal thing that we’re going for here.”

As he stares, slowly getting over the surprise, Magnus is hit by Alec’s thoughtfulness. The confident Alec, the _leader_ , is now smiling at him, waiting for an answer.

Magnus just shakes his head, smiling fondly. He nods in agreement, snaking his arms around Alec’s neck. Alec lets out a little sigh that turns into a humming approval when Magnus kisses his cheek.

“That,” Magnus says, “sounds perfect, Alexander. Demonstration?”

“Demonstration,” Alec agrees.

~

The routine, after that, becomes more theirs than ever before.

Magnus’ choreography gets shifted around a bit, and with Alec’s suggestion, it once again becomes a conversation, a story of lovers teaching each other. It fits into the story. Although the Argentine Tango is a game of seduction, he never feels it as this aching, painful emotion. It’s strong, and intense, but it’s safe and promising too.

The start and end sections of the dance are in close hold, informal and intimate. It’s where the lifts are, at the beginning and end, with the main portion of the dance in Ballroom hold, and with a lot of hard steps and content. Once again, the judges won’t be able to ignore it. There’s no way they can ignore a routine like this, especially, as Magnus hopes, the audience will be on the edges of their seats.

They’ve got interest now. Catarina and Ragnor keep them updated about their followers. Although they didn’t place first or second at the qualifiers, they’ve apparently picked up fans already. And for the right reasons, too. The School gets reporters coming and going, and Maryse relaxes after that, the publicity giving her School a good rep to the dance board.

It’s not like she’s supporting their personal dreams, but she wants them to win. Even if it’s for the wrong reasons, Magnus decides it’s not important. Not right now. She’ll let them do their thing, and support through gritted teeth.

All the while, Magnus revels in dating – yes, _dating_ , he says it like a lullaby to get him to sleep sometimes – Alec, someone who gives their all and opens up like the spring; slowly, and with surprising colour. They spend days taking each other to their favourite food spots across the city, stealing lunch, or the rare dinner, when their schedules line up. If they’re not rehearsing, they’ll stroll through Central Park, or steal to the other’s apartment and unwind.

There’s no rush, which Magnus enjoys. Their friendship was always easy, and dating isn’t any more of a challenge. Finding time is difficult, and the pressure of work is straining at times. Yet it never threatens their new relationship.

The only negatives – if they can even be called that – are how they have to let the other people in their lives tease and express their delight that _finally_ the pair have surrendered to their feelings.

On the second week after the Salsa club night, Jace begrudgingly hands over a ten dollar bill to a grinning Izzy.

“I thought you guys would makeout on stage or something, I don’t know.”

“Yes, because life is a romantic movie,” Magnus teases, “where Alec and I are unprofessional and kiss after our dance ends, lost in passion. However, because this is _real_ life-" he glares at Jace- “we'd then get disqualified, and break up because we’re both scorned by the dancing world.” He sighs deeply. "A tragic end." 

“Uh, ouch,” Alec mutters, “we literally just became official.”

Magnus smiles sweetly up at him. “Sorry, Alexander, but these tropes must be avoided.”

After a round of laughter breaks out, Alec nods, expression mock-serious. "Alright," he says, "then let’s keep the ‘dance from the heart’ speeches down to a minimum, yeah? Just to be safe,” Alec suggests, but he’s smiling happily.

His patience wearing thin, Magnus points the others towards the training room door. “Out, children, be gone,” he shoos, waving a hand. They all exit with varying degrees of smirks and guilty looks.

“So,” Magnus says, “lift practise?”

Alec nods. “Lift practise,” he agrees.

~

It actually, oddly enough, becomes a group project. A lot of dancers start to offer suggestions, lifts for them to try out.

Considering that both Magnus and Alec are strong and tall, it’s enjoyable to work out lifts that suit their build. They want to create the elegant shapes and lines without it being awkward, or worse, comical. The routine, and their talent will erase any doubt, but adding in even one clumsy lift, and the whole routine becomes amateurish.

Alec is taken aback by how eagerly he throws himself into trying out new lifts. Until Magnus came along, he never even dreamed of wanting to be lifted, or dancing with another guy. But now, it's an unfolding happiness that he takes pride in. 

“I’m hot,” Magnus pants out, jarring Alec from his train of thought. It’s a Friday afternoon and truthfully, it is undeniably hot weather for early May.

But Alec isn’t thinking about the sun outside. Not when Magnus is standing before him, lifting up his shirt halfway and granting Alec with a great view of his abs.

Alec licks his lips. “Yeah,” he agrees, staring. Sweat glistens down Magnus’ spine, and he can’t help but come up to stand behind him. Magnus freezes, tightly sprung like a coil as he senses Alec moving behind him. He waits. Alec tries to let the moment build, but he's waited long enough. He dips his head and kisses Magnus' neck, circling an arm around his partner's waist and pulling him flush against his chest. Magnus lets out a quiet groan, tilting his head a little for better access.

Alec makes a small trail of kisses across Magnus' shoulder, sucking over his sharp collar bone. Just as he reaches Magnus' neck again, lips tracing behind his ear, Magnus spins around in his arms.

He narrows his eyes. “No weighing down on your partner, Alexander,” Magnus teasingly warns. Before Alec can protest, he pushes him back with a hand. “No touching.”

“Oh, come on,” Alec mutters. “Not fair.” And it's really not. Especially when his boyfriend looks unbelievably beautiful; half-unbuttoned, red-violet shirt, black pants and messy hair. 

At his pleading look, Magnus just shrugs. “Tango is about want, and need, but longing for what you can’t have,” Magnus reminds him. “It’s also trusting,” he says, voice softening as he takes a step closer, “and knowing your partner will always be there.” 

He's in Alec's space again, tilting his chin up for a kiss.

Alec pretends to feign disinterest. He looks away. “Mm,” he hums, “guess I’ll have a hard time playing this role. I might have to pull out,” Alec says solemnly. He almost bursts out laughing when he hears Magnus' undignified snort. 

“You wouldn’t,” Magnus says, horror creeping into his expression, but then he’s laughing, and so is Alec, and it’s such a beautiful moment, Alec thinks, to be able to laugh and joke with someone. There’s a warm, steady feeling, besides the flaming desire, and Alec knows it’s not going away anytime soon. Neither is Magnus.

"Alright, come on," Alec mumbles, tapping Magnus on the nose, "let's get back to work." 

They spend the rest of the half an hour working on a lift of Raj's suggestion, and then one of Isabelle’s concepts. But neither really fit the dance's mood, or the choreography, and so they call it a day, pleased with the rest of the progress. 

Because it's a Friday afternoon, and Alec's schedule is mainly free now - he's stopped tutoring lessons until after the finals - they're heading out together, probably grabbing dinner at the East Village in Manhattan. Alec is determined to make Magnus appreciate a simple burger and fries. One day. But the guy's finer taste in foods and fashion is what makes him Magnus, and Alec wouldn't have it any other way.

Before they leave, Alec asks, “Okay, I have a question, and I’m asking it not because…I’m regretting us, I really don't,” he adds quickly, “but, uh, I don’t want to leave it unspoken.”

“Sounds serious,” Magnus teases, but there's a careful choice to the words. He nods. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Before he can hesitate, Alec says, "Dating and partnering. It's...It's not asking for trouble, right? We're not gonna make a mess out of this?"

_I'm not going to make a mess out of us?_

He doesn't say this part, but he thinks it. He fears it, even for just a moment.

But then Magnus smiles, strands of dyed hair - the tips now a deep red - falling into his eyes. “Again," Magnus says softly, "dear, you’ve seen far too many movies for your own good. Most of those couples don’t communicate," he points out, and Alec has to let out a small hum of agreement. 

"Besides, those rules don’t apply to us. We’re better than that, not to sound arrogant.”

“It’s confident, not arrogant,” Alec says. “I like your faith,” he says. “It’s just…You’re an amazing guy, and an amazing dancer, and I…I don’t ever want to hold you back-“

Magnus holds up a finger, the tip ghosting against Alec’s lips. “I understand,” he begins, “but you’re underselling yourself. Alec, you are loyal and kind and also, a wonderful dancer. If I’m confident, it’s because I believe in us. I believe that you and I are good for each other, professionally and…otherwise,” he finishes slyly, smirking. “But,” he adds, “I’m very pleased you brought this up.”

Alec lets this sink in. The weight in his chest starts to dissolve.

He nods, finally letting his smile return. "Okay," he repeats. With a smirk, he adds, "Can’t have any of that unnecessary drama movie crap, can we?”

Joking aside, the relief is also there, the conversation having been on his mind for a few days now. But Magnus is right. If there are ever problems, they’ll talk it out.

Communication, Alec decides, is not so scary after all.

Magnus has apparently already moved onto more important issues.

"Are you _sure_ I can't convince you to check out this Thai place on the corner..."

As Magnus continues on, Alec listens to his attempts of persuasion, grinning. He pulls Magnus close by wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and they walk out of the room, side by side, with Alec resting his head against Magnus'.

The competition might be in just over a week, but Alec isn't rushing to get there anytime soon.

For now, he's got a great thing going, and a solid partnership that makes every day a blessing. 

~

“So, did I ever tell you about the time Ragnor and Catarina got me arrested?”

“Now that’s one way to start a date,” Alec says, impressed and terrified at the same time. “Continue,” he invites.

In the end, they end up grabbing dinner at _Park Avenue Spring_ , per Izzy’s suggestion. Begrudging, Alec admits that the place is beautiful, the restaurant changing its interior along with the seasons. Today, its lights are draping with vines and petals, the tables a light wood with pleasant, soft jazz music topping off the charm. Alec chooses a simple steak, but admits that Magnus’ sea platter looks delicious. He doesn’t have to be invited twice when Magnus offers him a forkful of salmon.

It sort of hits him, as he leans in, carefully biting into the offered food, that he’s on a date with Magnus. Even though it all feels rather new, there’s no weight pressing against his chest anymore. The fear isn’t there. He’s not glancing around, or checking to look down at his phone for a message from the School every five seconds.

Magnus, oblivious, watches Alec bite into the food, and then he shakes his head, zoning back into the conversation.

“In Japan,” Magnus starts to explain, “dancing after midnight is prohibited. Well, was. The ban was lifted last year, I believe. But no one elected to ignore my past self of this. I spent the night behind bars. I taught my cell how to Jive." His expression turns fond. "Oh, Alec, it was a wonderful night.”

“No way,” Alec says, chuckling. “You literally danced yourself into trouble. That’s just…wow, yeah. Speechless,” he admits.

“Okay, your story time. Go.”

"Okay, uh, when I was twelve..."

And so, the evening goes like this, with small stories and laughs shared between the courses. Throughout the date, Alec occasionally steals glances. Yes, he can look all he wants, but he likes catching Magnus unaware sometimes, his half-smile genuine and sweet. He likes the vulnerability of dating. As frightening as he once thought it was, it's actually pretty damn enjoyable. 

As the desserts are ordered, the conversations slowly start to become longer, and deeper. Alec finds himself talking about not dating anyone before Magnus, and admitting that he's found it hard to open up because of how he felt like missed out. Magnus just nods, listening attentively. Some of the stories are hard to say, but Alec is glad that he tells them. 

As their desserts get brought over, Alec pauses. He bites his lip, and then looks up.

Slowly, he says, "You’ve never told me about your family. Is there...Is there a reason for that?”

Magnus is quiet for a handful of seconds. "Not intentionally," he eventually says, "but the story isn’t a cheerful one.” He pauses, the silence an invitation for Alec to change the topic, but he doesn’t. Alec waits, nodding.

"Very well. I'll tell you."

Alec learns that Magnus was born and raised in Indonesia, until his mother died. When he was nine, his mother took her life, and his step-father refused to raise him. Magnus glances away as he says this bit, and Alec gets the impression that although it’s a long time ago, Magnus’ past still haunts him sometimes. But then Magnus’ smile returns, and Alec also learns that his mother was a kind woman, as well as a fearful one. She left Magnus with good memories too. His step-father, not so much, but Magnus doesn’t dwell on this. He doesn't dwell on not knowing his birth father either.

Instead, Magnus tells Alec, “I was placed in a foster home, here in the States. New York has been my home ever since. Well, Brooklyn, but still.” Magnus’ smile softens, his expression turning wistful. “My family are my friends, and my pupils, and my loved ones.” Magnus says this last bit quietly, almost shyly. "Cat, Ragnor, Raphael, my students, Luke and Jocelyn. They're my home." He doesn’t look up, but he reaches out, turning Alec’s hand over and touching his palm.

Alec swallows, trying to blink away the tears prickling behind his eyelids. They dissolve, but the immense trust that Magnus is giving him takes away his breath. He’s always seen the kindness in Magnus, and the strength, and now he’s being trusted to see another layer; the lonely side.

“Having strict parents isn’t so bad then,” Alec says, but makes sure that Magnus sees his careful expression.

Magnus does smile then. “Emotional manipulation isn’t any better,” he says, “but your parents are complicated people. They do want what’s best for you. They just need to respect that you, in fact, know what’s right for you. I hope they will. One day.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I think.”

They finish their desserts off and pay the bill, and as much as Alec would like to come up for a nightcap, when Magnus offers, Alec sighs, declining. He's got to drive Max to a competition tomorrow morning and it'll be a long drive. He needs a good night's sleep, and if he stays, Alec has a feeling he won't want to leave. 

Instead, Alec places his hands on either side of Magnus' face. He leans in and kisses him softly, deeply, and with all the affection that he can. Because if someone like Magnus can be given every reason to hate the world, and still choose to greet it with a smile, Alec can kiss that guy senseless outside his loft.

“See you Tuesday?”

Magnus nods. “Tuesday,” he agrees. He turns, hesitates, and then sneaks another kiss from Alec’s lips. “Okay, I’m gone for real this time.”

“Pity,” Alec mumbles.

Magnus holds up a hand. “You,” he warns, pointing, “need to give my heart a break.”

Alec grins, heading for his car, parked by the usual spot down Magnus’ street.

Again, that welcoming feeling returns. _Usual_.

Until now, Alec’s not entirely let himself belief that this happiness is here to stay.

But perhaps, he thinks, it’s about damn time he let himself hope.

~

Hope turns to a reality, and also a chaotic blur of costume fittings and rehearsals. 

The final week leading up to the competition is, again, the busiest one. Alec wonders if he'll ever catch his breath.

He does manage to steal Isabelle for one of their sessions, asking her to come and see if their final routine passes her approval. And it does. She watches carefully, giving the dance her full attention. When they're done, she claps, offering her brother and Magnus her encouragement. 

Everything appears to be going smoothly.

“No lighting slip ups this time,” Magnus mutters, when he checks in over the phone with the backstage team.

Speaking of, Alec realises that they never did find out what happened backstage, but in a way, it worked. The lights changing in their Waltz simply worked in the favour anyway. A few reporters described it as a ‘waxing aesthetic metaphor for change’ and dramatic wording aside, Alec kind of likes that idea.

However, Magnus isn’t too keen for the lighting to turn bright this time, and Alec agrees. A Tango needs mood appropriate lighting even more than the Waltz. Bright floodlights would mess with the intensity of the spotlights, and the impression of the couple being cut off from the outside world.

The competition is in the same ballroom hall as last time. This time, there are three rooms open across the venue, the competition over only one day. Stage one welcomes the lower ranks, and stages two and three are for the professional levels. Alec and Magnus are performing last in the Gold rank, which starts to unnerve Alec. He knows it's randomly selected, but the prickling anxiety worms its way under his skin. 

He just has to be sure he doesn’t panic on the day.

Which is soon.

Three days, to be exact.

Someone suddenly pokes Alec in the arm. He jolts back to the present, back to their familiar training room.

When did it become theirs, he wonders?

He doesn't have longer to consider. He watches Magnus giving him a mock-serious look as he examines Alec’s frame. He looks up and down, shaking his head sadly.

“Spaghetti arms, baby,” he teases, emphasising the heavy weight of Alec’s arms with a slow grin.

Alec just eye rolls. “I’m not even anywhere near the damn corner,” he retorts.

He’s delighted when Magnus gapes. “Alexander,” he says, when he’s recovered from the shock, “the fact that you understood, and responded, to that reference, has given me an extra two years of life.”

Feeling rather pleased with himself, Alec lets his expression turn smug. “I’m not culturally repressed as well as sexually,” he says dryly. He suddenly freezes, the words catching up with him. He probably shouldn’t be talking about sexual frustration when Magnus Bane is dancing in a tank top nearby.

Magnus chuckles, unaware of the personal hell he’s putting the other guy through. He steps back, stretching out his neck and leaning with his back against the nearby pillar.

“Why are we having a heatwave in May?” Magnus grumbles, head against the pillar. He sighs, lips parting slightly. Alec really hopes the question was rhetorical because he absolutely cannot give a coherent response right now.

Magnus’ fingers tease at the edge of his tank top, lifting it up as he fans himself. “Do you mind if I…?” He trails off, and Alec gets it, he’s dying of heat himself, but this is dangerous.

He hears someone say, “Yeah, sure. But you’re not gonna get any control out of me if you strip.”

He realises that someone else didn't say this. _He_ did.

It's too late to take it back now. But Magnus doesn’t just make him lost for words, he also gives Alec courage, this newfound confidence. It’s been building up for a while now, and Alec decides, with a self-satisfied feeling, that it’s better than closing himself off from _wanting_.

He’s not the only want who’s wanting. Hunger flashes across Magnus’ eyes. He pushes away from the pillar, fingers still toying with the hem of his shirt. He slowly edges up his tank top, before discarding it completely.

It doesn’t matter. It’s not like Alec needs his dignity anyway.

He groans, and now it’s Magnus’ turn to grin. It blossoms with sweet victory.

The other dancer cocks his head as he asks, “Isn’t that what the Tango is truly about? We talked about it, Alexander. Remember? Balancing control and desire." Magnus licks his lips. "Teetering on the edge of surrender, and then...pulling back.”

Magnus rests a palm against Alec’s chest, fingers burning through his white shirt.

Alright, he thinks. Two can play this game.

Taking in a deep breath, Alec has Magnus in his arms before he can overthink it, bodies pressing together once again. Raw energy spills from the pair as they dance. Breathes come out ragged, and Alec loses count of the number of times he licks his lips, giving his dry lips moisture. He doesn't overstep. He doesn't kiss him, or give into the tension. He holds it, delighted when Magnus is the one whose cheeks are flushed scarlet. 

When they finish, they face each other, and Magnus beams. “Now that,” he says, pupils dilated, “is how to dance a Tango.”

Alec shrugs casually, but he can't help but smirk. “I agree,” he returns, “and this,” he adds, cupping Magnus’ face between his hands, “is how to kiss your boyfriend afterwards.”

Afterwards, Magnus smiles. “Boyfriend. I like this new endearment.”

“Good, because it, us, we’re not going away.”

“Good,” Magnus repeats, briefly resting his forehead against Alec’s.

As their session comes to an end, Alec watches Magnus shrug his shirt back on - disappointment and relief settling into Alec's chest. Magnus throws his bag over his shoulder, coming over to say goodbye.

“I have to go. Wedding dance choreographing,” Magnus says carefully, for some reason not meeting Alec’s eye, like even the thought of them in that situation is too much. Alec gets that, and glances away. Something stronger than lust takes control then. He's startled by the strength of it.

More than affection, or desire. More than want, or a tentative crush.

Alec knows the word for it. He's sure of it. But he doesn't want to say it, not yet. 

Magnus suddenly grips him by the shirt and pulls him closer. His fingers curl inside Alec's blouse as he kisses him.

When he pulls back, he smiles warmly. "See you tomorrow.” Magnus starts to leave, and Alec watches as his boyfriend turns at the doorway, a serious look in his eyes.

_Oh, no._

“Alexander,” Magnus begins gravely, “I just want you to know, that I’ve had the time of my life. And I owe it all-“

“Out, now,” Alec says flatly, pointing to the door, but Magnus’ laughter keeps him company all through the rest of the day.

~

For someone used to others leaving and making demands, Magnus finds himself getting used to having a safe place, to having someone who makes his heart leap into his throat, but also settle gently afterwards. As the month comes to an end, and the competition arrives, Magnus is taken aback by how so much has changed. He’s in a relationship with someone as talented, thoughtful and intriguing as Alec.

He has faith.

Unlike last time, there’s absolutely no hesitation when come Saturday morning, Magnus steps onto the coach. Like last time, Alec is beside him, only this time, he’s flashing him one of those full, dimpled smiles, set with crinkled eyes that makes Magnus feel warmly youthful again, concealing his blush and ignoring the butterflies in his chest. They swoop and flutter and he should really be better than this.

But why?

Doesn’t he deserve this?

They both do, Magnus accepts, pushing aside his nerves. The pre-contest jitters start to arise, but it’s nothing unbearable.

In the seats in front of them, Isabelle and Jace’s heads poke up, excitedly chattering away. When Maryse steps on-board with Robert, the noise starts to fade, but most of the dancers still talk. Maryse’s authority is clear, however, and when she meets Magnus’ eyes, her look of discontent isn’t lost on him.

It shouldn’t bug him.

Yet, perhaps he’s more annoyed for Alec. Rather than himself. Her son is talented, really talented. Magnus dislikes that Maryse is too afraid of forming her own opinion rather than supporting her son’s dancing.

But he knows it’s not that simple, because Maryse is a smart woman. She knows there’s more to their relationship, and more to why Alec’s dancing is now more risky, less afraid to show himself off.

Magnus doesn’t regret helping Alec onto that path, but he didn’t want this for him; the divide between his parents, or the rest of the world’s eyes on them.

Still, it’s a pressure that they share. Together. As Jace and Izzy offer some pre-contest advice, and even Lydia, a few rows back, gives them a thumbs up, Magnus knows that they’re not alone either. They’ve got many people on their side, cheering them on.

That, Magnus knows, is what changes a good to a great, a challenge to a victory.

They can do this. Magnus believes in their shared strengths, as a couple, and as dance partners.

“You’re looking very smug,” Alec points out, his voice a quiet murmur. But Magnus hears him, even over the volume of the coach.

As it pulls away, Magnus watches the streets pass by, the colours ready and waiting for them.

He turns to Alec and says, “That’s because I have a handicap over everyone here.”

“Which is?”

“The best partner.”

Alec doesn’t say anything, but he gets his phone out, typing out a few words.

Curiosity winning out, Magnus asks, “What’s that for?”

Alec holds it up:

**Reminder set, for -4 hours: Kiss Magnus Bane after we place in the semi-finals.**

Magnus lets out a laugh at that, turning his gaze towards the window again. A pleased grin covers his face the entire ride, and he can hear Alec chuckling to himself, equally pleased.

 _Oh, Alec,_ Magnus thinks _, I'm so glad I met you._

~

As they're the last couple to dance, when they head inside the ballroom, Magnus and Alec get changed quickly, and decide to find some seats close to the School, so they can watch the others perform. Isabelle and Meliorn are dancing soon, the Silver rounds coming to an end, and Magnus is filling up with anxious, excited anticipation as he sits beside Alec, waiting for his sister to step onstage. Maryse is a few seats to his left, and Magnus is surprised to see her hands tapping against her thigh, the only part of her that isn’t still and composed.

For a moment, Magnus considers trying to catch her eye, but what can he say? She didn’t seem like someone who wants his words of comfort, and she’s sitting beside Robert anyway. The pair are probably going through some pre-performance ritual of death-glaring at the other Schools.

As his sister's turn to dance approaches, Alec’s leg starts to bounce up and down. He’s dressed in black pants like Magnus, but the top halves of their outfits contrast; Magnus in a deep red shirt, with sheer sleeves, and a pair of black suspenders over the top, meanwhile Alec’s wearing a black shirt, with matching dark red suspenders. The material hugs Alec’s forearms nicely, and Magnus forgets his nerves for a second. He just drinks in how alluring Alec looks, all clenched jaw, tight shirt and hair neat, but a few escaping strands against his forehead.

He shakes his head, refocusing.

“Alec, it’s going to be alright,” he reassure him quietly, leaning in. “Your sister is a stunning dancer. She’ll make it through easily.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Sure you’re not dating the wrong Lightwood?” Alec asks dryly. Magnus senses that Alec's only half-aware of his words, still staring at the empty stage, where his sister will soon dance.

“Completely sure,” Magnus says. Although Alec means it jokingly, it hits Magnus then, how _right_ Alec is for him, in so many ways. Falling has never been Magnus’ problem, but rather, finding someone who changes and grows with him. Finding someone who challenges him, yet trusts and motivates him too.

“Sorry,” Alec mumbles after another minutes goes by, “I’m zoning out, aren’t I?”

Magnus shrugs and says, "Just come back to Earth for our dance." He keeps his voice light, well aware that Alec is tense enough.

To Magnus' surprise, Alec’s leg suddenly stops bouncing. He stills, glancing across.

“I’m always aware of our dances, Magnus,” Alec says softly, just audible over the audience’s chatting. “They somehow manage to, I don’t know, just…keep me grounded, but also not.” His face scrunches up, and Magnus senses that he can’t quite find the right words. He waits patiently.

Eventually, Alec finds the words. 

“Dancing was always what I was good at. But now, it’s...It's what I _love_.”

Magnus’ cheeks are suddenly warm. He tries not to squirm under the intensity of Alec’s gaze, stripping him bare in the best way possible.

Before he can say anything, the lights start to dim. They instantly turn to face the stage before them, waiting for Izzy's announcement.

As the lights fade to a warm, blue spotlight, Magnus reaches out and slips his hand into Alec’s. He rests their entwined hands in the small space between their seats. Alec squeezes back, a silent thank you.

_“Please welcome to the stage, couple number 35, Isabelle Lightwood and Meliorn Ataya.”_

The dancers come down from the staircase above. They walk down onto the stage with practised ease.

Izzy’s head is held high, poised and surveying the audience. Meliorn’s gaze is equally commanding. They’re a gorgeous couple, Magnus thinks, especially today, with Izzy’s stunning, maroon velvet gown, and Meliorn’s matching waistcoat. 

They take to the floor without messing about. They don’t need to grab the audience's attention. They already have it. 

Although their routine has less content than Magnus and Alec’s, the Silver rank is still difficult. Magnus is unbelievably proud as he watches the couple's dance. They’ve worked just as hard as anyone else, but he knows what it means to Isabelle to win, especially now that she’s got extra motivation in the form of dancing Latin next Season.

The trust between Meliorn and Isabelle is also evident. Both are sharp and strong on the dancefloor, their lifts simple but perfectly executed. They haven’t gone for a character dance, but their chemistry is undeniable.

As their dance finishes, Magnus is leaning forwards, alongside the rest of the audience, in time to watch Meliorn lift Isabelle into an arabesque position. They hold it for a second, and then Isabelle’s back arches, her partner letting her fall down, and into his arms. Her arms wrap around his neck, and then Meliorn falls to his knees, the spotlight narrowing on them as the dance concludes in an intimate embrace.

It’s a show-stopper, and the crowd claps and call out their praises. Cheers and applause lights up the room, and Magnus catches Alec beaming as the floodlights come back on, revealing Izzy and Meliorn’s smiling faces as they take their bows.

“That was perfect,” Magnus says, exchanging a happy look with Alec.

Alec nods, the tips of his ears flushed pink. “It was,” he agrees, pride in his voice, and eyes. “But we should head into the other room soon. We’re on in fifteen,” he reminds Magnus, a brief flicker of tension tightening his lips.

Much to Maryse's annoyance, they still hang back for another minute. They wait for Isabelle to come out to see them, still wearing her gorgeous gown - and equally divine smile. She throws her arms around Alec, and he hugs her back, grinning without care.

“You were great, Iz. Really great,” Alec tells her. He leans back so that Magnus can offer her a brief hug and words of agreement, and then Maryse is there too, with surprising pride in her eyes as she congratulates her daughter.

“The arabesque could’ve been sharper, but otherwise, a sturdy performance,” Maryse says, with the most pleasant smile on her face that Magnus has ever seen. He assumes this is what counts as clapping and crying for Maryse.

Magnus stays silent, letting Isabelle have her happy moment.

“You two,” Maryse says, narrowing her eyes, “need to go and get ready. Don’t let the School down,” she says, and Alec stiffens for a few seconds. But then he catches Magnus’ eyes, and he actually sees the moment the fear leaves Alec’s eyes.

“We’re ready,” Alec says, his voice surprisingly strong. He turns to his mother again. “We’re going to place, mom.”

“I know,” Maryse agrees, to their surprise. “Thank you for all your hard work.”

They turn to leave, but then Alec spins back around. He steps forwards, leans in and says to a surprised Maryse, “Yeah, well, thank Magnus too. He’s choreographed as well as rehearsed."

A wave of shock goes around their small circle. Isabelle is hiding a pleased smile, and so is Magnus, but he sees the hurt in Maryse’s eyes and quickly wipes it away.

Before anyone can anything else, Alec turns and walks towards the other stage, heading for the double doors. Magnus catches up quickly, offering the circle an awkward smile. He thinks for a long moment.

Just as they reach the backstage area, he says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, yeah, I kind of did. If she wants to play the supportive parent role, that’s cool. But I’m not gonna let her prejudices affect you. Not anymore.”

The blunt, thoughtful honesty in Alec’s words grips Magnus’ heart. He busies himself with pushing past the other dancers, and heading to a bench near the backstage assistants. They’re flicking through the list, ready to call out the next dancers.

As they sit together, Magnus finds the silence so different from last time. The dance happened so quickly in the qualifiers. It was a rushed, last minute changeover. It was Alec daring to step in, and Magnus daring to step out and follow it through.

Now, the silence is hopeful, tense in a satisfying way. It’s not giving Magnus the time to get nervous either, which is great.

The noise around them keeps them company, as well as each other. They don’t say anything else, yet Magnus knows Alec is just psyching himself up, just like Magnus is starting to do. Each dancer has methods of coping with the pressure. The important thing is to trust and rely on your partner.

As soon as you step outside, it’s just the two of you.

And that, Magnus knows, is something he believes in, entirely.

Which is why when the announcer closest to the smaller, backstage door calls out their name, Magnus stands without hesitation. He exchanges a brief smile with Alec, and then they’re being ushered to stand behind the curtains. It’s thick and velvet, and they can’t see the awaiting audience, but they can hear the storm of excitement now, can taste the energy in the air.

He considers stealing a quick kiss from Alec, but accepts that that’s not going to help him focus.

He tucks away that urge, slyly thinking that it might help for the dance, in fact. There’s no such thing as too much yearning in the Tango. And if there’s one thing Magnus feels right now, it’s that. Yearning for freedom, for the dance’s energy and passion. Yearning to win, to feel victorious for the right reasons. Yearning for acceptance and power. And last, but not least, yearning for his partner.

Alec sighs, hands fiddling with his suspenders. His fingers catch in the elastic. He mutters out a curse.

Magnus reaches out, covering his palm across Alec’s chest.

“Alexander,” is all he says, softly, but Magnus senses that it’s all his partner needs to hear. Alec’s shoulders relax. His hands drop to his sides again. He faces the curtain, jaw tense, and Magnus, again, feels that divine hunger burning under his skin.

 _“After a solid performance in the qualifiers,”_ the overhead voice is loud and clear, ringing out like a bell, “ _can our final couple keep the surprises coming? Once again, choreographed by Magnus Bane, please welcome onto the stage, couple number 26, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood.”_

The curtain is swept aside. The lights burn into Magnus’ eyes.

He trains his gaze ahead, lifting his chin and proudly walking onto the floor beside Alec.

For them, the dance has already begun. The masks are up, the personas in place.

Alec lets go of Magnus’ hand, slowly, longingly, just like they practised. He steps away, waiting to the left. Alec stays there, watching.

Magnus makes his way to the centre of the stage, where a single black chair is waiting for him.

Again, he’s gone for only one prop, trusting their chemistry, and the steps, to do the rest. But as much as he likes to preen, Magnus isn’t arrogant. He’s proud and yes, borderline vain, but when Alec suggests starting the dance with just him, centre stage, even Magnus hesitated.

But as he steps to the chair, Magnus feels the eyes on him, basks in the anticipation, and the tension. It’s his to command. The audience is watching, waiting, and he’s in control. Entirely.

Straddling the chair backwards, Magnus lets his arms drape over the back of the chair. He gazes straight out into the audience. His shirt tightens as his arms tense, and he almost smirks, hoping the people in the front row are getting a great view through his sheer shirt.

The lights dim, and the stage goes completely black, waiting for the song to begin.

When the song starts, a single, red spotlight trains on Magnus, on the chair, and on the centre of the stage. The music is slow at first. It builds the string section with a surprisingly gentle rhythm.

This is the quiet part. The first meeting. The allure, the drawing in of the lovers.

Knowing that Alec is watching, Magnus pushes to a stand, keeping both arms outstretched and gripping the back of the chair. Centring his frame, he lifts a leg onto the chair. His muscles are tense, in complete control of every inch of his body.

This is the most rewarding part of finally sharing a dance, in allowing the audience to see what you’re taking pride in; the dance, the hard work, the determination.

He doesn’t feel like a lonely guy, jumping from place to place, lover to lover. His mask is gone. This is the truth of himself, entirely, spilling out across the dancefloor. This, the passion, the strength in the pull of the dance, is what Magnus cherishes.

As the background instruments join in, the swelling tempo growing longing, faster, Alec steps into view.

Magnus follows his movement, eyes drawing him in.

Only when Alec is close enough to touch does Magnus move again. He uses the leg that’s poised on the chair to push up, so that when Alec approaches, he’s ready to settle his leg around the other dancer’s leg, ready for the first lift. Alec is there, sliding into hold gracefully. His arms wrap around Magnus’ waist, guiding him away from the chair. Magnus’ legs form the fan shape easily, tensed and arching. He locks eyes with Alec, finding it impossible to look away. It works wonders for the dance, however, the heat prickling his skin like fire.

After the rotations are done – only three, and quick, not lingering enough to become boring – Alec slowly lowers him. They get into Ballroom hold, and the technical portion of the dance begins.

With his arms around Alec, and their heels clicking against the floor, Magnus feels entirely at home.

It’s easy to breathe, easy to guide Alec around the floor.

Their legs remain touching, locked and trusting. The tension is good. Magnus can feel Alec pushing back with every step, just like he once struggled so hard to do. It’s a battle and a seduction at the same time. Magnus revels in it.

He can feel sweat dancing across his upper lip.

Sweet satisfaction warms him as they travel across the dancefloor. Their turns are sharp and fast. The brief moments of separation are focused and strong, eyes meeting and tenderness turning to desire, and then they’re back in each other’s arms, travelling around again.

The two minutes go by quickly, with Magnus’ concentration never once wavering. He’s confident and unafraid, sensations of joy erasing any doubt he might have.

Because Alec is with him, completely.

Their story might be just that, a character dance, but it’s never felt more real to Magnus. He’s dancing with someone he truly cares about, and respects. He knows, no, can _feel_ , how much Alec gives back to him in return. It’s in the smooth transitions and quick footwork. Alec couldn’t do this without trust, without letting Magnus guide him back, and around the floor.

And so, as the final section comes to an end, Magnus is ready for the second lift. His lift. Or is it Alec’s?

It's _theirs_. Entirely.

The move sends a small ripple of coos around the room. A sigh or two. Even a gasp.

Alec hooks a leg around Magnus’ waist, thigh locking around his hip. Gripping Alec’s raised leg, Magnus drags him back, lifting him slightly off the floor. It’s a drag lift, simple, but placed at the end of the dance, and it’s a satisfying way to cross the line between desire and surrender. It’s the two dancers becoming one, trusting completely.

Alec’s forehead is against his, lips parting and pupils blown wide open. Eyes that Magnus is falling into, fast.

The music reaches its last crescendo. Magnus strengthens his grip around Alec’s waist, spins the pair around, and dips Alec. The other dancer leans back in his arms, Alec’s strong jaw, and neck, angling sharply away. Magnus lets his head dip, resting close to Alec’s chest. He can see beads of sweat, and feel the shiver that runs through Alec’s body, but whether it’s relief, desire, or both, Magnus doesn’t know.

All he knows is that they didn’t put a step wrong. The lights didn’t change. They hit all the music cues, and aced the quick segments and lifts.

_We did it._

The temptation to smile is overwhelming, but they wait until the spotlight fades, sudden and perfectly on cue with the dip and Alec’s final extension.

It’s a simple enough move, but Magnus is sure it looks different. But a good different, he hopes. And the heat between them is surely enough to move the audience, make them see more than just two guys dancing.

He hopes they see the beauty in it, in acceptance and change and balancing tradition within it too.

Alec is beaming, cheeks flushed a beautiful pink. Magnus’ own are burning, but he’s so damn relieved, and doesn’t care if he looks a mess.

He feels like a king; Alec is right there with him, crowned and divine.

In this moment, facing an audience that’s cheering them on, and beside each other, Magnus wonders if they look as unstoppable as he feels.

As they head back up the stairs, catching their breath and grinning like madmen, they’re not giving a second of alone time.

"Incoming," Magnus hastily warns his partner.

They step offstage, instantly ambushed by happy laughter and support. Their friends crowd around them. He realises that they snuck in to watch from the wings, or from the broadcasts backstage.

Magnus is tugged into a hug by Cat and Ragnor, who apparently also snuck backstage – he’ll congratulate and scold them later. He’s then attacked by Izzy, when she’s done hugging Alec so hard he has to get Jace to pull her off so he can breathe.

All Magnus hears is love and support, kind words and proud smiles. He cherishes them all, feels his spirits soar completely through the roof, stretching up and up.

Because they did it.

They did the routine perfectly, and there’s no way they won’t place.

The hard word is paid off. Soon, they’ll hear the result, but Magnus is sure they’re through.

The area behind the curtains suddenly falls to a hush. Maryse steps into view, studying the happy group with a small smile.

Magnus bristles, waiting for a demand as to why the lifts weren’t removed, or simply congratulating her son for keeping the School’s reputation up.

She surprises Magnus then.

Maryse says, “Your _brush tap_ sequence needs work.” And then her smile softens at the edges. “A well-danced routine otherwise. Congratulations.”

Alec smiles, nodding. “Thanks, mom,” he says.

Before anyone can say anything else, they’re ushered out by the narrow-eyed assistants, who, to their credit, have given them enough time, and space, then what’s appropriate.

As their friends and family leave, Magnus blows Cat and Ragnor a quick kiss. He laughs as they pout and walk away. Izzy and Jace wave at Alec, and he waves back, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Well, Alexander,” Magnus says, when they’re finally alone, with just them, the closed curtains, and a whole rush of emotions, “I’m certainly happy with that performance. You?”

“Really happy,” Alec agrees, grinning so wide that Magnus wants to frame it in a photo. Forever. It’s a beautiful smile; wide, proud and well-earned.

Alec, apparently, isn’t done. He undoes a couple of his shirt buttons, fingers toying with them as he speaks. “God, Magnus, that was, just, whoa. That was great. Really great.” He’s stumbling, and Magnus is utterly endeared as he watches Alec soak up the buzzing aftermath of their success.

“I enjoy dancing. Always have. But when I danced out there, with you, again,” he adds, almost in disbelief, “it was alive. It’s because of you. You brought it out of me, Magnus. I can’t thank you enough. Your passion. Your patience. And stubbornness too,” he adds, breathless as he rushes on.

He laughs, and Magnus does too, startled but captivated by the words coming from Alec’s lips.

“All of it just…clicks with me,” Alec finishes, the words spilling out, and falling into Magnus’ arms. He catches them, latches on and hugs them tightly to him. For once, he’s speechless.

Alec falls silent, studying him intently.

He steps closer, in that purposeful way that has Magnus weak in the knees.

“Oh,” is all Magnus can say. He gives in to his urge to grin, letting the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.

He takes a step closer, into Alec’s arms. The eager look in the other dancer’s eyes is what throws Magnus over the edge completely.

Magnus leans up, wraps both arms around Alec’s neck, and kisses him. Alec responds instantly. He grips Magnus’ waist, the space between them practically non-existent now. The quiet murmur of the audience can be heard, as well as the dancers in the crowded backstage area through the door behind them.

But in this moment, in the joy, and the pride, and yes, the _love_ , it’s just the two of them.

They sway and kiss, and Magnus chases Alec's lips again, not letting him go so easily. Alec obliges, gripping his hips and holding Magnus tightly.

Eventually, when they pull back, Magnus clears his throat.

“Glad we cleared that up, Alexander,” Magnus says, lips brushing his as he speaks. Alec's responding chuckle slips into Magnus' bloodstream, warm and divine.

“Right. Me too,” Alec murmurs. He loosens his hands, raising them to cup Magnus’ face instead. It adds a kind of tenderness to the moment. The hunger is still there, but now there’s something else, an intimacy that feels familiar. The rightness of it somehow balances with the eagerness. It’s timid but desperate, eager lips chasing, but hands steady as they hold each other.

_“Ladies and gentlemen, we can now announce your semi-final victors! Starting with 10th place..."_

Cheers go up in the audience as one by one, the top ten qualifiers for the finals are announced. They hear Lydia's name called out at 6th place, and smile, proud.

A few minutes later, Magnus freezes. He feels Alec’s arms wrap around his waist from behind, and he leans back, locking onto the sensation of Alec’s heart pounding against his back.

 _We’ve got this,_ Magnus thinks. _We’re through, we’re through…_

Surely enough, the victory comes moments later.

“Second place,” Magnus repeats, his voice shaking slightly as he says it.

Alec hugs him tightly. And then spins Magnus around, gazing down with a warm smile, and bright eyes that speak volumes.

“We did it,” Magnus says. It’s an obvious statement, but his eloquence is lost in the moment. He’s never realised how much he wants something until now. Until Alec gave him such a perfect partner, such a perfect friend, and guide, and muse.

He’s all and more, and god, Magnus is falling completely.

Alec nods. “We did, yeah,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, thick with emotion.

Magnus blinks, suddenly realising that the brightness in Alec’s eyes is from tears. One falls, slowly, brushing against his cheek as it falls. Magnus reaches up, swiping it slowly away, and Alec leans into the touch, smile softening.

“We should go celebrate with the School,” Magnus reluctantly says, “and battle a few reporters, hm?”

“I suppose,” Alec agrees, equally surrendering. And then his eyebrow arches. “But first,” he says, and to finish, his grip around Magnus tightens.

Magnus yelps, delighted, as Alec lifts him off his feet. He only grunt a little, which Magnus is rather impressed by, given his build, but Alec doesn’t protest. He pulls him into a tight hug, tugging his feet off the ground.

Magnus soaks up the victory with a grin, burying his face into Alec's neck. He hugs him back just as tightly. 

And with the competition over, the finals await the pair. Hard work awaits them, and more lessons and pressure. The stakes are higher than ever, but although Magnus isn’t a prophet, or a god, but he’s fairly sure he knows one thing:

Whatever happens, this – Alec, their relationship, the wholeness of it - is here to stay.

They'll make it. They'll _win_.

And if Magnus just so happens to fall in love with his dance partner, does that really matter?

 _No,_ he thinks. _It doesn't matter._   _It's our time._

Alec smiles, as if to say, _yes, it is._

And no one, Magnus decides, can take it away from them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. MUCH. FLUFF.  
> Okay but I did warn you there is literally zero angst. Only happiness (and competition nerves) for my babies. It's honestly just shameless dancing fluff and feels. I regret nothing.  
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! And the Dirty Dancing references/Tango/Salsa, etc. It was a lot, i know, but i didn't want to risk breaking up the 4-part structure.  
> I hope you enjoyed it! :)  
> Come find me on:  
> Twitter - @clockworkswan96  
> Tumblr - clockworkswans  
> Again, the video inspirations/songs are here if you want to listen:  
> Choreography/inspirational videos:  
> 1) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3vsiiRK5GU  
> 2) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fWB-Y9jodk0  
> Salsa club songs: (inspired by Sense8)  
> 1) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vy8T2dVJk6k  
> 2) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApN1cZoiX4w  
> Tango song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bE5Rc6DAr00  
> I am back at university next week, and i have a lot of essays/exams to prepare for, so please be patient with the final update, thank you :)  
> Oh, and these are the two lifts:  
> https://learntodancetango.com/videos/69129649/flying-fan/#fndtn-comment  
> https://learntodancetango.com/videos/69131240/lets-get-horizontal/#


	4. Finals - Part 1: Open Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, this chapter was split into two because a CERTAIN SCENE got far too long.  
> (I'll let you work out which...)  
> Anyway, this was, as always, unbelievably fun and a joy to write. I hope you like it too! :)  
> 1) Quickstep song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETmG97s8f54  
> 2) Viennese Waltz song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-WCC_xa2H0  
> 3) Exhibition song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_jgIezosVA  
> Happy reading!  
> Tumblr - clockworkswans  
> Twitter - @clockworkswan96  
> *Chapter warning: mature content.*

_**Songs used: Brown-eyed girl by Van Morrison, Open Arms - Vitamin String Quartet, and Moon River by Andy Williams.** _

* * *

  ~

 **"International Ballroom Championships: 2017**   **line-up**."

_(Written by: Catarina Loss:)_

_That’s right, folks._

_The time has soon come for our finalists to take to the floor for the two-day extravaganza that will be the International Ballroom Championships of 2017!_

_With a semi-final filled with fan favourites, familiar faces and dark horses sailing into the final round, where will you place your support?_

_To help you out, here’s the list below. Remember, choose well!_

GOLD RANK:

** Couple number 5, James Carstairs and Tessa Gray **

The English jewels of the dancing world, Carstairs and Gray have once again taken to the floor with grace. Their charming dances never fail to captivate even the coldest of hearts. The pair came third in last year’s Championships. They’re solid contenders to go even further this year. But with fierce competition, it’s hard to say for sure. Either way, Carstairs and Gray are always a joy to watch, and have always seemed earnest in their good sportsmanship. Their timelessness is elegant, and the pair are certainly strong contenders this Season.

** Couple number 7, Jonathan Morgenstern and Amelie Wade. **

The Morgenstern name will no doubt be a familiar one. The traditionalists are dedicated and hard-working. They also come from one of the oldest dancing Schools in the world, closely followed by  _The Clave’s School_. However, after the previous year’s ban, Jonathan Morgenstern’s fate was left unclear. Until now. Partnering the ice-sharp, Wade, Morgenstern has come back fighting with two faultless routines, taking second, and first place in the quarter-finals and semi-finals respectably. Their reputation is back on track, but can they take the lead in the final? Flawless routines are good, but the final dances need uniqueness. Can Morgenstern and Wade deliver?

** Couple number 26, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood. **

The only same-sex couple to make it to the finals comes in the form of two not only talented dancers, but distinctive ones. Bane and Lightwood continue to entertain and enthral on the dancefloor. Their choreographed dances blend tradition with new colour and style. Although they haven’t been partnering long, it’s clear that this couple continue to impress both the audiences and the judges. However, nothing is set in stone. Pressure and nerves grab hold of all of us, so it all comes down to how the pair handle the Championships. Still, it’s hard to ignore such a pair that pushes dancing to imaginative levels as Bane and Lightwood.

Let’s see what happens…

 

_(Continue onto page 2 for more!)_

~

A lot can happen in a week. But a lot of that, as Alec finds out, can be good. After making it through to the finals, their friends and family take a brief pause to celebrate. They go out to dinner and enjoy themselves. Even Maryse and Robert. Even if they excuse themselves early, Alec is still strangely pleased that they came out. Alec and Magnus are joined by them, as well as Jace, Izzy, Clary, Simon, Cat and Ragnor. Jocelyn and Luke manage to swing by as well, congratulating the pair. Luke and Magnus steal away to the bar for a few drinks, and Alec takes the time to sit with his own family, and for once, relax.

It's a wonderful night; no arguments or tension, just a nice end to an intense weekend of competition pressure. They've given interviews and faced the articles - which are all, fortunately, brimming with nothing but praise - and now, it's time to have a night off. Alec makes sure to thank Catarina for her amazing article. She grins back, and tells him - with a coy look - to thank her by winning in the finals. At that, Alec huffs out a laugh, and lets Magnus fire back an equally witty and charming response. 

Even if it's just that, a night, Alec willingly takes pride in the brief celebrations. When it's time to leave, he heads back to the School, but he lets himself walk Magnus to the corner, in his loft's direction. On the curb, when the night is on the cusp of coming to a close, Alec leans in and kisses his boyfriend, pushing away the small prickles of anxiety. He'll let himself be carefree for one night. 

When he turns, he finds Izzy waiting for him, shivering in her jacket. It's a cold night, despite being late May now, and so Alec throws an arm around his sister and laughs as she presses close into his side. 

Alec's head spins a bit, but he only had a glass of wine; dizzy with bliss. He manages to stumble into his room, and somehow change, before he collapses into bed, still grinning lazily up at the ceiling. 

 _I'm gonna win the Championships_ , he thinks.  _With Magnus Bane._

Sleep claims him, and Alec happily lets it. 

Just as he thought, he's incredibly glad for the brief break, because as the next week comes along, they're all thrown back into work again. They have Championships to prepare for, after all. They have dances to choreograph, music to select, and people to please.

On the first Thursday back, Alec and Magnus meet with Maryse and Victor, to discuss the concepts for their final two dances. Magnus comes into the meeting room like a focused storm; poised for battle, and ready to win. He slides smoothly into the chair beside Alec with his usual grace. His fingers splay out over the armrests, painted a deep maroon that contrasts his silver rings nicely. 

Alec holds his gaze for a few seconds, grins, and then turns to begin. Between the four of them, they get things on-track. Although they have different ideas and preferences, Alec knows that they all have different ideas to bring to the table. And that they're all worth hearing out. Their first dance is a Quickstep, the set dance for the Gold level couples, however their second dance is a free choice. 

It's here that the struggle begins. Victor suggests a classic Foxtrot, but Alec and Magnus are more inclined towards a Viennese Waltz, a dance that allows more freedom and ways to work in lifts and transitions. The free dance is one that must show off the couple's strengths. And although the Foxtrot is a tough dance, and proves their talent, it doesn't push for  _more_. 

With six weeks to go, they need to pick music, and a routine, soon. Fortunately, Victor suggests that they take the week to find a piece of music first. Maryse doesn't complain, but Alec senses her apprehension conflicting with her loyalty. He knows she wants to assign them a song, but Victor has given them a window.

 _We'll take it, and find something,_  Alec thinks.

"Wonderful," Magnus chimes in. "In a week, we'll have two routines ready to go."

Alec doesn't know if he's being sarcastic or sincere, but right now he doesn't mind. Magnus' confidence is enough to get him through this meeting. As Magnus lifts his chin, the muscles in his neck tightening, Alec fidgets in his chair, suddenly feeling oddly warm. It's been impressive to see Magnus at the meeting, sensing his restraint, and cool exterior. He's quick-thinking and careful as he speaks, not giving Maryse or Victor a chance to one-up him.

His boyfriend is a balance of sharp looks and charm and  _god_ , Alec kind of wants to slam him against the nearest wall, dig his fingers into Magnus' hair, and kiss him feverishly. He doesn't. He has more self-control than that.

In fact, Alec not only waits until they're out of the meeting, but until they've rounded  _two_  corners. 

Magnus catches on, casting Alec a quick look as they head towards their usual training room. The corridor is empty, but Alec still glances around before crossing the gap between them. The tightness in his throat, the enticing  _want_ , pushes him into action. He backs Magnus into the wall, digs his fingers into his hips and crushes his mouth down to meet his. Magnus makes a small noise of appreciation, already snaking his arms around Alec's neck, holding him in place. 

When they pull away - not wanting to get caught grinding against each other in the corridor like needy teens - Magnus smirks. 

"I didn't realise you were so...wound up, Alexander," he teases, lips brushing his as he speaks. 

Alec rolls his eyes, and quickly dips his head to nip at Magnus' bottom lip. He's satisfied when Magnus' grin turns into a groan, hands spreading out across Alec's back, trying to find a grip. 

"Just thought I'd start our first session back with some... _kick_ ," Alec says, emphasising the word with a wink. He feels ridiculous then, fighting the urge to scratch his neck, or glance away, but his worries float away when Magnus laughs. The sound is gentle, and warm, and Alec decides a little embarrassment is worth it, to hear Magnus laughing like he's won the world.

"I couldn't agree more," Magnus says. He reaches out to take Alec's hand in his, squeezing it once. "You ready now?"

Alec grins. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

~

They make it into the training room without further...distractions. Magnus isn't sure whether he's pleased or frustrated by this, and decides to spin the butterflies in his chest into something productive; their rehearsals. Their first session is spent assembling the Quickstep routine. They choose their steps and work out ways to slip in flourishes and fun touches.

The Quickstep is – as its name suggests – fast-paced. It requires energy from its dancers, but also stamina and control.  It’s not necessarily an easy dance – far from it – but Magnus is thrilled by how well it suits them. Alec’s firm frame keeps Magnus from losing himself in the whirlwind steps, and in return, Magnus gives Alec’s steps more urgency, transitioning from good to great. The rise and fall of their footwork is crisp, and they navigate the corners of the floor with ease, Alec letting Magnus guide him easily.

But although the session is tough, it's mainly spent with Magnus trying to get his boyfriend to admit that it’s going to be their best dance yet. They fly around the corners, balance well, and barely put a step wrong. 

Maryse and Victor picked out the music, but Magnus actually, to his surprise, adores the piece. It's swing-based, joyful and sweeps the pair into a dance they can full enjoy. The Quickstep doesn't leave room for transitions, and so they quickly agree that it's best for one dancer to lead.

Magnus is pleasantly surprised when Alec suggests that his partner leads.

"You're sure?"

"It suits you more. The dance, I mean. It's colourful."

"Thank you," Magnus says, smiling. "You're happy to be led?"

"Yeah. Guess I am."

"Alright, then. Moving on."

As they finish working on the Quickstep routine - it’ll need polishing, but they’re pleased with it - Alec and Magnus return to the second task at hand: the free dance routine. This one is trickier, given that its possibilities are relatively endless. The free dance has to be meaningful, to capture the strengths of the pair, to really showcase why they ought to win. It can have elements from any Ballroom dance, but it has to have one primary style at its core.

They need to find music, pick a song, choreograph, and work out what angle they're going for. Romantic? Tense? Bit of both? The options are limitless, and Magnus' mind is jam-packed full of ideas. 

Ones that don't matter at all until they find a piece of music. 

As they both catch their breath from the practise, Alec collapses onto the bench. His chest heaves against his thin, black shirt, and Magnus takes a few moments to appreciate the glorious sight of a messy, sweaty Alec Lightwood sitting before him. His hair is fluffed up and strands are falling across his forehead.

Magnus swallows, glad that he doesn’t need to speak just yet. He comes over to stand by the bench, reaching around Alec to grab his water bottle. As he takes a few sips, he hears Alec's gulps, and  _damn it,_  even the way his throat muscles tighten is attractive. 

“Do you wanna pick the music for our second dance?”

Trying not to choke on his water, Magnus lowers the bottle. Carefully. He toys with the cap as he thinks. 

After a small pause, he asks, "Why? Don't you?" He keeps his tone balanced, a bit teasing, but also challenging too, to see if Alec reacts. Magnus isn't sure if Alec doesn't want the pressure of choosing a song, or is simply being polite. Magnus is more than happy to select the track, but if they pick together, if it’s important to both of them, it’ll show on the floor, and in their steps.

Alec shrugs. “I don’t mind.” It's his turn to fiddle with the bottle top now. He eventually settles it down beside him, glancing down at his hands. "It's just...It has to work for us. It has to be something special, and I don't....I don't know how to pick that sort of thing."

"Hm." Magnus nods, and comes to sit down beside him. He gazes across at his boyfriend and smiles. "Well, we have a week to work it out. We've got time, Alexander. No need to rush into choosing." He rests a hand over Alec's knee, and the other guy visibly relaxes, shoulders releasing some of their tension.

"Yeah. You're right."

"As for the dance, you hinted at a Viennese Waltz. For the groundwork," Magnus suggests. 

Alec nods. “It’s a dance we can put lifts in. Or not,” he quickly adds, “but it gives us the option. If we want." He starts to pick up pace, confidence returning again. "We can bring in elements from the Foxtrot or American Smooth too, depending on the song. Huh. Actually, the lifts will transition better with an American Smooth."

Pleased to see his usual focus and determination returning, Magnus nods in agreement. "I'm with you on that. It makes sense." He pauses. "Unfortunately, it still doesn’t solve our music dilemma."

"Right."

In the quiet pause, Magnus gets an idea, somewhere between staring at their entwined hands, and the stereo system. 

"Hm," he begins, "perhaps we can compile our own music collection and listen to them together?" he suggests. "I don’t want to limit our ideas just yet. We can see if anything stands out."

Alec is quiet for a few moments, studying him in silence, his lips parted slightly. 

Magnus gives him some time to think it over, and when he's ready, Alec nods.

"Yeah," he says. His lips tug up at the corners, the smile turning from timid to sure. "That sounds good," Alec agrees. "I'll, uh, get working on it as soon as I can. When are you next free?"

"Tuesday afternoon, I believe.”

"Great. Great," Alec repeats enthusiastically, grinning now.

Magnus hides a groan, wanting nothing more than to just take a bite out of him. Nicely, of course.

They gather up their gear, and jackets, and start to head for the door, even though Magnus knows for sure that Alec is staying behind to help a student with their dance exam prep. When they get to the door, Alec hovers, holding it open for Magnus and watching him. His eyes dip from his face, to his lips, seeking permission.

Suppressing a grin, Magnus decides to help him out, and tilts his chin up to kiss him. He wraps his hands slowly around Alec's coat, playing with the folds and tugging his boyfriend closer. They're half in, half-out of the room, and Alec's leaning forwards, and Magnus is pushing up, and as always, that delicious push-and-pull tension makes Magnus' heart pound. 

He pulls away, warmth shooting into his chest when Alec's dimples flash, a lazy smirk on his face.

"Goodbye, Alec," Magnus says, barely managing to keep upright. It's just a kiss, but it's also Alec's open happiness reflecting back at him. It's also Magnus' guard unfolding, the walls happily falling. 

"See you," Alec says, and the soft smile he's wearing stays with Magnus as he flounces down the School's steps, heading into the open, bright day. He's already starting to compile a list of music in his head, equally curious to see what Alec comes up with...

~

As soon as he's done for the day, Alec tracks down Isabelle, finding her happily lounging in one of the School's staff break rooms. There are chairs and tables and even a small kitchen, and it's almost empty in the late afternoon quiet. He finds Izzy with her feet up on one of the couches, head back against the armrest, phone between her hands. She's so obliviously lost in her texting that Alec has to clear his throat.

"Iz," he says. "Help."

His sister barely jumps. She eyes him up quickly, and then frowns. "Did you put Jace's leather jacket in the washing machine again? I'm not sorting that shit out again, big brother. Hand washed, remember?  _Hand. Washed."_

"What? No, his jacket's fine," Alec mumbles. "You know what's not fine? This." He holds up his own phone, and before he can overthink it, he sits down on the couch, re-positioning Izzy's legs so that they're stretched out across his lap now. He waits, glaring down at his useless phone, and useless music and useless-

"Hey, Alec. What's going on? You seem...pent up. And not the good kind."

"Ha."

Isabelle narrows her eyes, leaning forwards. She studies him without shame, and Alec rolls his eyes. And then remembers that he's the one who came to her for help, and that he should probably quit being an asshole.

"How can I help?" Isabelle asks. This time, she puts her phone down on the table and leans back, watching him carefully.

"It's about...Magnus. Uh. N-not Magnus, as in...us, but Magnus as in...this." Alec holds up the phone again, offering Izzy an apologetic smile. At least, he hopes it is. It probably comes across looking exactly how he feels: a mess.

"Okay," Izzy says slowly. "Your phone is causing you not-relationship problems?"

"A song, Iz. We're looking for a song. For our final dance. The free dance. And I want it to be a good song, and a good dance, and it's- it's the last one we'll have together, this Season - I don't know if he'll want to carry on - and I don't know what to suggest and can you...you know,  _ugh_ ," Alec cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh. He's going through the usual playlists. Nothing jumps out to him.

_Yeah, because you're thinking like your old self._

Isabelle seems to catch on. She shuffles closer and looks straight at him. The expression in her eyes is softer now.

"Alec, it's okay," she says. "You'll figure something out. I'm sure you will. What kind of thing are you guys looking for?"

Alec feels his jaw clench. Slowly, he thinks it over, trying to ease away the tension. "Well, it's Viennese Waltz-based, so something classic," he begins, hesitantly, "but...not. We have to make it a familiar song, or at least something acceptable. It can't be too individual, but it's also gotta be distinctive."

His sister's expression turns thoughtful as she stares at him, and then down at the cursed phone in his hands. She leans forwards, plucks it from his grip, and holds it up as she explains, "Hm. Here's an idea. Give me tonight to compile something for you. I'll pick Simon and Clary's brains too, and go through your playlists." Isabelle gives him a cheerful grin. "I'll put a selection together. Stop you from overthinking," she adds dryly, quirking an eyebrow.

Alec has to admit that he can't argue with that. He's silent for a couple of seconds, thinking it over. But really, what harm can that do? This way, Izzy can go through his stuff with a fresh eye, and add some of her own suggestions. 

"Yeah. That's great." Alec smiles then, the weight lifting just a bit. He pats her legs, which are still resting atop his. "Thanks, Iz." The phone on the table catches his eye, as it lights up with a quiet buzzing sound.

Now it's Alec's turn to give her a knowing look. "So...what's going on with you?"

"What? Ah. Maia," Izzy explains, eyes flicking to the phone. 

At that, Alec suppresses a grin, not knowing if he should be teasing or warning his sister about Magnus' fierce friend. But he knows the two girls have been hanging out a lot, and are fast friends. He'll trust that his sister isn't off getting into too much trouble. Simon and Clary have been swinging by the School as well, and Alec starts to actually see the appeal in their company. They become a weird group, between the dancers, and the friends and family members, and Alec once again is reminded by how quickly things can change; how quickly people can come into your life and change it, for good or bad.

“Cool," he eventually replies, knowing not to press. If Izzy wants to share, she will. They know each other too well to keep secrets after all, so Alec knows there's nothing troublesome going on.

Not wanting to sound like a nosy sibling - even though that's basically his birthright - Alec asks, "How're your routines going? For the final?" As he asks, he's slightly ashamed then, suddenly realising how long he’s been ranting about his routines. After all, he’s not the only one facing tons of pressure right now.

Izzy doesn't look too put out. In fact, she grins. "Great," she says, nodding happily. "We're doing a Foxtrot for our free dance. Safe option, yes, but we're going to nail it."

Alec has no doubt that this is true. 

"Great," he says, unmistakable pride in his voice. "Music?"

 _“I’ve Got you Under My Skin’._ Sinatra’s, of course.” Izzy hums a few bars under her breath, and Alec taps against her knees. There's a peaceful solitude in this moment, in sharing some time together and unwinding. 

When she's done, Alec sighs. "That's a good pick,” he begrudgingly admits. He shouldn't be annoyed at that, but yeah, he kind of is. 

Isabelle smirks, but then reassures him, "Hey, we’ll find you a good piece too. You guys are gonna win the Gold rank.”

Alec doesn't mean to let the fear back in, but suddenly, it's there again. Just for a moment. What if the pressure gets too much? What if they find a song, get onto the floor, and mess up, right at the final step?

"Whatever you're thinking, stop." Isabelle's voice is soft, but urgent. She sits up straighter, watching him keenly. "You  _are_  going to win. Not because everyone expects you to, or whatever, but because you deserve to, and you're crazy talented, big brother. The both of you are."

Alec stops fighting himself, and smiles. He glances across at Isabelle, comforted by her words.

"You really think so?" he quietly asks. 

Isabelle nods. "Completely. I've danced with you for years, and I’ve never seen you light up like this before. On,  _and_  off the dancefloor," she adds with a smirk. Before he can scoff at her tease, she adds, "You’re wonderful together, and you deserve to be happy.”

How can he argue with that?

"As do you, Izzy."

"Obviously," she shoots back, but the soft certainty in her eyes makes Alec proud, and smile back. They sit together for another minute or two, until some other teachers come to grab coffee, and then Alec excuses himself, wanting to check out a few more songs for the compilation. 

Before he goes, he kisses Isabelle's forehead in farewell.

"Thanks," he tells her, even managing not to roll his eyes when she blows him a kiss.

"Mission 'get Alec to chill out' was a success?" she inquires innocently.

He nods. "Sure." 

“Good.” Izzy suddenly narrows her eyes, pointing to the door with one hand, and reaching for her phone with the other. “Then go back and finish finding the perfect song," she instructs. "I'll get started in a bit too."

Alec huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, I’m on it.” He waves a hand in dismissal, turning for the door. “Go do your thing.”

~

Until now, Alec often thinks of the School’s building as being rather large.

After all, it’s always difficult to track down teachers outside of hours, or bump into the same person twice in one day. There are numerous classrooms and canteens and meeting rooms. There’s over eight hundred pupils.

Basically, it’s a busy place. But there’s always – usually – a spare room.

Hence Alec’s growing frustration as throughout their one week to find a song, interruptions keep piling up.

First, it’s Izzy, who sheepishly asks if she can steal Magnus and Alec's usual room to practise with Meliorn, even though Alec  _knows_  he booked the room for an extra half an hour. Still, he nods, because  _sure_ , they can reschedule. The next time, it’s Jace, proudly coming in to inform them that he managed to get Simon to run twenty minutes on a treadmill without throwing up. This, at first, makes Alec grin, but then…it keeps happening.

The interruptions don’t stop.

It's like the universe is cursing them. Not that Alec's overthinking this. At all. 

Even his mom seems to be in on the joke. Maryse comes in to check on their progress towards the end of the week, and so does Victor. Alec and Magnus manage to at least act polite in-front of them, but when Ragnor and Cat come to visit, Alec knows that even their happy faces are unwelcome. He gets it, and appreciates their support, but really, time is of the essence and Alec is seriously debating about rehearsing on the streets again.

“I don’t suppose you have a secret floor,” Magnus mutters, as they make it to Thursday afternoon without success. It's been a tough few days, working through songs and working hard to at least nail their Quickstep routine in the meantime. They've at least worked out the basics for their free dance, the Viennese Waltz, but picking a story or mood without the chosen song is asking for trouble.

At Magnus' glum look, Alec laughs, shaking his head. “We don’t. Sorry.” He gets it, feels the agitation bearing into him as their dear friends keep interrupting. With a grin, he glances up at the ceiling and points. "I mean, we could take this to the roof. To escape." He even manages to suggest it without snorting.

Magnus whips around to face him, so fast that Alec lets out a quiet yelp.

"Alexander," he begins, eyes twinkling with glee, and mischief, "are you meaning to tell me, that during all this time – and it’s been months, may I remind you – you’ve neglected to mention that the School has rooftop space?” 

Finding it amusing that Magnus is so delighted by this, Alec shakes his head.

"It's not for dancing on," he dismisses, shoulders shaking as he laughs. "It's just a roof. Without a railing," he quickly points out, suddenly aware that Magnus' smirk is only widening, and his eyes have that gleam in them that suggests trouble ahead. 

"So, yeah," Alec lamely finishes, "there's that."

"Hm. Indulge me anyway. Is it big?”

“What- No," Alec hastily says, catching on. "No. We're not...Magnus, no. Come on." He ignores how close Magnus is, now sidling into his space and beaming up at him. It takes all of Alec's self-control to stand his ground.

_I mean...no one would actually look for us up there. We can rehearse without waiting for someone to come in..._

Shaking his head - and the thought from his mind - Alec studies his partner again, fighting a smile as he feels his resolve start to slip. 

"Look, maybe-"

He's quickly cut off by the sound of the door opening. As if to confirm his thoughts, the training room door slowly creaks open, and a head of blonde hair and a small smile enters the room.

_Wow. Just, wow._

Lydia greets them with an apologetic smile. “Oh, hey, Alec, Magnus,” she says, lifting her hand in a wave. She hovers in the doorway, and Alec can see Raj behind her, the pair awkwardly waiting outside. “Uh, I thought this room was free. Do you mind-?"

_Screw it._

Holding up a hand, Alec cuts her off, gesturing for her, and Raj, to come inside.

"It is," he says. "We were just leaving.”

As he turns to face Magnus, he catches his boyfriend's smile vanishing. A deflated, soft sigh escapes his lips, and Alec tries not to break out into a guilty grin. Magnus might be charming and wise with experience, but he can certainly pout like a kid. 

Alec stays strong. He keeps his expression flat and raises an eyebrow.

“Well?" he asks, matter-of-fact. "Do you wanna go to the roof or not?”

In a single second, Magnus' smile flashes back, realising that he's won his partner over.

“I suppose I wouldn’t  _object,"_ comes his dignified reply. But Alec can tell he's pleased, and yeah, so is he, because there's something cool about sneaking your boyfriend onto the rooftop to work in private.

When Lydia gives them an amused look, Alec just shrugs, and follows a beaming Magnus out of the room. He slips his hand into his, glances around, and then pulls him in the direction of the elevator...

~

“See? It’s safe,” is the first thing Magnus says; when they take the elevator to the top floor, and then follow the small staircase up onto the roof. They use Alec's building key to slip into the afternoon air, closing the door carefully behind them. 

True enough, there’s a waist-high concrete wall encircling the roof space. Alec also admits that it’s a nice afternoon for it too; warm, but not muggy, with the sun low in the sky. There’s no scaffolding or wires anywhere, only a large, empty space of concrete flooring and a slight breeze ruffling through the air.

Shrugging off his jacket, Alec lets himself smile. ““No interruptions. No teachers hovering like hawks.” He begrudgingly cracks a smile. “Alright. This was a good move.” He sets his jacket down over the wall, leaving him in a simple, black V-neck, short-sleeved top and matching pants.

A few feet away, Magnus is kneeling, hooking his cell phone up to the small speakers they brought with them.

“What did I tell you?” Magnus says, and Alec doesn’t need to see him to know he’s smirking. “I knew you’d find your adventurous side, dear." 

When he's done with the speakers, Alec watches as Magnus slowly stands, stretching out his neck. He’s dressed in a black shirt with white diamond patters across it, the shirt low-cut enough for Alec to see the full length of his necklaces. The warm brown skin below the charms catches the light, and Alec studies him a short while longer as he walks over to where Alec’s standing.

There’s always been something in the way Magnus moves. Not just as a dancer, but as an entity. His grace is panther-like and fluid, elegant and a bit dangerous too. He’s always moving, but the calculations are never threatening. At least, Alec’s never found them to be. Magnus moves proudly and surely, and Alec thoughroughly adores it; adores the man who moves beautifully towards him, smiling.

“You ready?” Magnus inquires softly. His expression is kittenish, but the warmth in his eyes is encouraging. As it always is.

Alec nods. “Yeah. Let’s find that damn song already.”

Making a small hum of agreement in the back of his throat, Magnus lowers himself again to kneel by the speakers. He presses a few buttons, and then the remainder of the playlist kicks off. They'll probably finish both of the playlists today. Alec tries not to worry about what happens if they  _still_  can't find a song.

The dancers pass twenty minutes easily, but again, nothing stands out. Sometimes, they'll try and dance, and other times, they'll just sit and listen, occasionally talking and sharing ideas. The song choices are all decent, but that’s just it. They’re not incredible. Or inspiring. There’s nothing that sings out as a winning song, or  _their_  song for that matter.

Despite the lack of success, Alec is intrigued by Magnus’ selections. The songs on his playlist have varied styles and tones, but they're always tasteful, crossing genres and styles while keeping Magnus’ cultivated flair. There’s a few classic numbers, modern ones, and remixes, but as much as Alec enjoys them, they agree that nothing comes together with their dance.

Until now, their dance hasn't had a story. They thought it best to keep the free dance as technically challenging as possible.

But now Alec's wondering if that's a bad move. Should they be thinking less about technicality and more about the emotion?

And so, as Magnus' final song ends, they switch to Alec’s compilation, which he plugs in with only minimal hesitation. Magnus did, after all, take Alec’s feedback with good grace. Surely Alec can do the same with his own music choices.

The songs are mainly classical pieces, or well-known songs used in the ballroom world; Sinatra, Elvis, Frankie Valli.

_No._

_No._

_No..._

Another fifteen minutes later, and Alec sighs, holding up a hand for a break. He hits the pause button, cutting off Eric Clapton’s drawling voice and acoustics. Alec sighs, leaning heavily against the wall. Sweat is clinging to his brow now. As he lifts a hand to wipe it away, Magnus comes to stand before him, hands resting against his hips.

“Call it a day?” Magnus asks, his expression carefully neutral. He does this a lot, Alec realises; uses a shield to hide some of the truth. It's not a cruel habit, just a guarded one; taught by someone who's used to others leaving, or letting him down.  

Lost in that thought, Alec hears himself ask, "What do you want, Magnus?" He holds his partner's inquisitive stare. "Tell me. From the free dance, what is it you're looking for? Because I think we're stuck, and I...I think you're scared to suggest something. So, please, tell me."

For a long moment, Alec fears that he's pushed too far, that he's said the wrong thing. Something unreadable flashes across Magnus' face. It looks an awful lot like fear, but then it softens, colours his eyes with a gentle kind of gratitude. 

It still takes a few seconds for Magnus to reply. He runs a hand across his necklaces, toying with the chains between his fingers. 

Finally, he replies, "I want to find a song that tells our story, Alec. No props. No character acting. Just us, Alexander." Magnus smiles, the uncertainty vanishing into the quiet afternoon. "I want to perform…as ourselves. I want to choreograph a piece that’s inspired by you, and me. That’s what I want. That's what I'm looking for."

The truth of it sparks motivation across Alec's skin. He's suddenly alert, ready to go, to find that song. To win. He's also watching Magnus in silence still, struggling to find the words that convey the sense of purpose he feels; conveys the depths of his affections. 

"Oh." Alec blinks a couple of times. His mouth is dry, and the murmur comes out all thick and hoarse. But he's taken aback by how softly Magnus says all of this, admits to the vulnerability he wants to showcase in their dance. It's more than bravery, or wanting to win. Alec knows this. He feels it too.

They lock eyes, and Alec knows then, entirely, that they're ready. They'll find the song and dance as themselves.

"Yes," Alec quietly says. He repeats it again, and once more, until Magnus is smiling and stepping closer, understanding that Alec also wants to step out onto the dancefloor without any walls or guards. Without holding back.

"For now," Magnus suggests, smoothing his hands across the planes of Alec's chest. "let's try one more song, and then we'll get back to it tomorrow." He pulls away, stepping towards the speakers again. "I think one breakthrough is enough for today, hm?"

Before Alec can protest or agree, the next song comes on. 

It only takes five notes consisting of Van Morrison's familiar string intro for Alec to eye roll. The song is so not what they're looking for. But it's cheery and fun, and he's already feeling the pressure roll off.

Magnus glances back over his shoulder. "This doesn’t fit a Viennese Waltz,” he points out, but then he grins and asks, “Ah, is this-“

“Izzy’s doing? Yeah,” Alec says, laughing at his sister’s attempts at a joke. He should've expected a few...surprises. Or maybe it’s just a song meant to be just this: a cleverly disguised, enjoyable break. He waits until Magnus is standing, and then shrugs. 

"She's coming from a good place. Usually."

The slow rock song starts to build, and Alec closes his eyes, just enjoying it for a few moments. 

He hears Magnus chuckle. “I’m not sure if this is a pun or a compliment," he muses aloud. When Alec opens his eyes again, Magnus is standing by his side, slowly swaying to the song. 

“Both, knowing Iz,” Alec mutters. However, the song’s cheerful rhythm is starting to warm him up, and his head starts to bob along to the guitar. Magnus is tapping his foot against the wall, shoulders swaying as he moves.

“Then, my brown-eyed  _boy_ ,” Magnus says, smirking, “come and dance with me.” He holds a hand out, wiggling his fingers in Alec's direction invitingly. 

“You’ve got brown eyes too,” Alec points out. "Actually,  _browner_.”

Still, he’s laughing as Magnus tugs him back into their new space, ducking as he leads him through a series of twirls. They’re not doing any proper steps, not really, but Alec closes his eyes and smiles. He inhales cool air and a new sense of acceptance: that sometimes, it’s okay to realise that you can’t solve everything in one afternoon, or even one week.

Sometimes, you can stop and dance with your boyfriend to a soft rock song on an empty rooftop. And that's a victory in itself. 

They dance until the last notes fade out, rocking side to side and taking turns to spin each other when the song picks up its pace. It’s comfortable, and Alec can’t stop grinning, running his fingers across the soft material of Magnus’ shirt. He strokes across his forearms, and then moves to pluck at Magnus’ necklaces, tracing the metal and smiling fondly. The familiarity of it almost moves Alec to tears, how comfortable and content he is to dance in Magnus' arms, and enjoy it entirely. 

The song quietens, and comes to a slow end, fading out for a few seconds.

Alec let out a sigh. Satisfied that they’re both feeling better about the song dilemma, he starts to pull back, heading to retrieve his jacket on the wall.

A quiet  _click_  breaks through his thoughts. The stereo moving to the next song.

It begins before they can silence it; rich, soothing violins sounding out a simple melody.

_Wait. I know that piece..._

Magnus is already halfway over to the stereo, ready to switch it off, but Alec quickly darts across, throwing out an arm to stop him. He shakes his head, and Magnus understands. He quirks an eyebrow, but obediently backs away, watching Alec curiously.

“Uh, wait a sec.”

Alec tries to think; tries to work out why his body is telling him to stop, and listen.  _Really_  listen. Something about the instrumentals is plucking at a memory, but Alec struggles to place it. Why does this piece resonate with him? He's sure it's just a piece they use when they're teaching pupils...

_That's it._

It is a song that's used to teach to, but it's not just one of Alec's favourites, it's also familiar for another reason. Painfully so. The memory is on the tip of Alec's tongue, the cusp of his mind. 

And then, it hits him; why he knows this song, why it suddenly felt different to the others.

Alec finds Magnus watching him, holds his gaze, and knows. He sees it all unfold again, as the violins sing out with longing and tenderness. 

 _It's the one that played when we met_.

Alec closes his eyes. He can see it happening, but he can also see the dance unfolding, the one they haven't danced yet. With the instrumental building, he lets the images, and the memories come back to him. He uses Magnus' words from before; dancing as themselves, creating something that tells their story.

Soft flashes of memories spring into his thoughts. He remembers meeting Magnus, recalls accidentally bumping into him, and feeling awe-struck, and then something else. Something stronger.

The newness, the start he never saw coming. It all comes back to Alec as he stands on the roof, listening to the instrumental piece build. He recalls the tentative looks. The friendship. Getting to know each other; talks, laughter, obstacles too. The violins soar, and Alec lets the memories take off as well. They're back to dancing in the street, under a burning streetlamp, and Alec is kissing Magnus for the first time. The success, the pressures, the victories all roll into one; one dance, one story. 

Trying not to let his thoughts run away with him, Alec works out the pragmatics too. The music is sweet, and it's not overpowered by a singer. It's not intense or distracting. With careful choreography, it'll be a dance to remember.

_Thank god I have the best choreographer as my partner. And boyfriend._

It's exactly what they wanted. It's their song.

Not wanting to get ahead of himself, Alec takes a slow breath in. 

He opens his eyes as the last note fades out.

"Magnus, I think this could work..."

As soon as he catches sight of Magnus' expression, Alec falls silent.

Magnus is watching him and smiling, the corners of his mouth lifting. There are tears glistening in his eyes, and Alec realises then, that of course Magnus knows, worked out why the song is familiar. Magnus stands a few feet away, unusually still for once. But Alec knows that he's thinking it through. He's doing what Alec just did; seeing the details in his mind, the potential, the dance it could become.

The dance it  _will_  become.

Also, Alec thinks, it's a song that the School, and Maryse will approve of. It's an instrumental, and has that timeless feel to it. There's no way they'll be able to decline it, not that Alec minds putting up a fight to secure their choice. And because it's an instrumental, Alec and Magnus can create the lyrics, and the story. It's risky, but Alec likes it, sees it as a reflection of their journey. Just like Magnus brought so much into his dancing, and life, they'll use their final dance to make their own path. 

Alec carefully kneels beside the stereo, and rewinds the track.

When it starts to play again, from the beginning, Alec smiles across at Magnus. It's his turn now, to extend a hand out.

"Come here, already," he murmurs.

Magnus slips his hand into Alec's, and they dance to the song, testing out the feel of it, greeting it like an old friend. It's tentative at first, as they experiment with some step sequences, and work out room for lifts. They replay the song again, and then once more. And in the steps, the dance starts to shape into something beautiful. Alec can feel the differences. They put themselves into each step, not as a character, or channelling a single emotion, but putting their hearts on display.

As the sun dips lower in the sky, and the breeze starts to grow stronger, the pair reluctantly decide to head inside. 

Alec shrugs on his jacket, fingers shaking as he grins. He's hopeful now, and so damn ready to work on the dance tomorrow. 

"This is gonna be great," he says, coming over to stand by Magnus, who's zipping up his own jacket.

When he's done, Magnus nods, beaming up at him. He's watching him with a strange look in his eyes, slowly drinking in all of Alec, like he's seeing him for the first time. What surprises Alec the most is how much he enjoys that feeling; of being stripped back, seen completely as himself. 

"You're sure?" Magnus asks. "It's a rather personal dance, Alec. It's one thing to dance it here, in a private space," Magnus says softly, gesturing around, "but out there, in front of an audience..." Magnus doesn't touch him, but he doesn't need to. Alec gets his meaning, understands the careful words, and smile. 

"I know," he says, surprised by the firmness in his words. "I...I want to do it. I won't dance to any other song," he adds, lifting his chin.

"Stubborn man," Magnus tuts fondly, taking a step closer. He says it like a proud compliment, fighting with a smile. He skims his fingers across Alec's jaw, the touch lingering for a moment. "Alright," he says. "I'm in too."

Alec lets his smile widen.

"Great. Then let's get off this damn roof. I can't feel my toes."

Magnus is still chuckling when they reach the elevator, and Alec tucks his hand into Magnus', leaning into him until the doors open again.

~

When he's done tracking down his mom, Alec heads up to the apartment, done for the day. 

As he opens the door, he peers in to see Jace and Izzy sprawled out on the couch together. They greet him with smiles and beckoning hands. It doesn't take much convincing for Alec to throw his bag down, slip off his shoes, and settle on the couch with them.

He winces then, catching a glimpse of something slow cooking in a pot on the stove.

"Don't worry," Jace says, "I supervised."

"Ah. Good."

They both ignore Izzy's pointed look, and she turns away, ignoring them as she watches the last of the movie playing on the TV. 

"So," Alec says, glancing around. "Is it just us tonight?" He's used to seeing Clary and Simon around, or Maia. Especially with the Championships coming up, it's rare that they have quiet nights in, or time to spend together. 

Isabelle nods. "Yep. Besides, it's far too late to put Max through Jace's whining."

Jace doesn't retort, already too absorbed in the movie. A few minutes later, and true enough, he starts complaining about the protagonist's shitty aim with a gun. Alec doesn't recognise the movie playing, but it's an easy escape from the long day. 

A short while later, Isabelle nudges him. "So?" she asks. "Did you guys find a song?"

"Yeah, we did. Eventually."

"Oh, Alec, that's great. How did mom take it?"

Alec fills her in as quickly as he can, recalls the brief meeting. Maryse didn't argue with their idea, especially when Victor points out that it's what the audience have responded well to; Alec and Magnus' connection. Although his mother looked uncomfortable, Alec knows that once again, her loyalty to the dance Board works in their favour. She'll cast aside her personal judgements, as long as it works out in the long run.

"That's awesome," Jace says, pausing long enough to offer Alec a quick grin. He returns it with ease.

"You'll stand out amongst the competition, but Jonathan Morgenstern is still going to be a problem."

"Thanks, Iz," Alec mutters. But he knows that his sister is pointing out the obvious. She's not showing her lack of faith.

Jace's nose wrinkles with disdain. "Ugh," he says, "I hate that guy. I mean, who wears that much hair gel? For  _fun_?" He shudders. 

"Says the one who spend an hour in the bathroom," Izzy points out. "Every day."

"Yeah, but that's to put the finishes touches on, all of this," Jace says, gesturing to himself. "That guy can't cover up his raging douche."

Alec has to agree that his adopted brother has a point there. Jonathan is infamous amongst the Ballroom world, and it's hard to ignore your competition when your Schools are constantly battling for the top reputation. But there's something ice-cold and cruel about Jonathan. Alec gets a cold shiver just thinking about him.

"You'll beat him," Jace says, fiercely certain. "What better way to crush that guy's ego than to score not one, but two victories? Win first place,  _and_  win as the first same-sex couple. Nice," Jace finishes, grinning approvingly. 

Alec laughs then, reluctantly admitting that yes, that does sound like a great idea. 

When their dinner is ready, they take the food over to the kitchen table and sit together, occasionally letting Jace explain all the things wrong with the movie they just watched. Alec indulges him, and lets his siblings chat, enjoying their antics.

Halfway through the meal, Isabelle leans in, tearing off a chunk of garlic bread. She waits until Jace is glaring at the screen again, leaning back in his chair to try and see what's happening in the apparently-riveting sequel. 

"Hey," Isabelle begins, quietly. "You're happy, right?" Her expression is careful, not wanting to push too far.

Alec nods. He awkwardly pats the back of her hand, smiling. "Yeah," he says. "Really happy, Iz."

And he is. After years of heading down the same path - and dealing with being pushed off that one, and finding his own - Alec accepts that the changes were, and are, good. He's got family and friends who accept him, and a partner as amazing as Magnus; and a boyfriend who makes him see that emotions aren't black or white. And that's okay.

He knows that matters of the heart aren't to be turned away from. They're to run  _towards_.

After washing up, Alec joins his siblings on the couch again, letting them animatedly discuss the final scenes of the movie. He laughs, joining in sometimes. As the credits roll up, Alec reclines his head back against the couch, smiling as he listens to his sibling's chatter.

Whatever happens, they'll face it together, as always.

And really, is there anything else to ask for?

~

The next two weeks pass in a quiet sort of blur; not too chaotic, but certainly fast. With four weeks remaining until the finals, it's all about finalising costumes and choreography, and then rehearsing like crazy to perfect the routines. They start to work on the details; when to transition, and when to add lifts. The Quickstep is practically polished to perfection, and all they can do for that dance is keep refining the harder steps. Their free dance comes together beautifully, or so, Alec thinks so. It's got lots of content too, but it's personal, and intimate in a way that Alec is sure will captivate an audience. It's new, and a careful balance of hard steps and emotion.

Throughout the busy weeks, they make time for rehearsals, and each other. Although there are weeks to go, Alec knows how quickly it flies by. And so does Magnus. They're professionals, and hardworking, and it's easy to fall into the trap of overworking. 

So they make time for each other as well. They grab lunch, or dinner, or enjoy strolls through the city if their schedules are too busy for a long commitment. 

Although he’s not keen to wish away their time together, Alec knows that soon, it’ll be over. The competition will end, victory or not. And then there’s that huge ‘what next’ starting to settle inside Alec’s chest.

Because what happens afterwards? If they win, will Magnus want to continue partnering him? Or will he return to Latin? If they lose, will he ask Alec to partner him next Season, or change again?

But the worries don't eat him up anymore, not like they would before. Alec's sure that whatever happens, it's not connected to their relationship. They're stronger than that. And when the time is right, they'll talk it through.

He also starts to think about his own future. What does he want?

Alec knows that he doesn't want to stop dancing. It's his work, and his job. But he wants to keep doing it with Magnus, because a huge part of Alec knows that otherwise, he'll spend the rest of his career trying to replicate something unique. 

But maybe that's okay. Even if he dances with someone else, Alec is completely sure that he won't forget what Magnus has taught him. He'll still feel the same way; liberated and encouraged to push himself for more. 

Just at that moment, as he's reaching for the training room doorknob, Alec's phone buzzes. He takes it out, frowning when he sees his boyfriend's name flash up on-screen. They're supposed to be meeting to train soon. Why is Magnus calling?

"Hey," Alec says quietly, hovering in the doorway of the empty practise room.

"Alexander," Magnus greets, "I'm sorry to call so late, it's just that I'm about to finish up with my private session, but...in all honesty, dear, I don't reckon you're going to get much out of me tonight." He sounds tired, as well as apologetic, and Alec only feels concern. Missing one lesson won't be the end of the world.

"It's fine," Alec assures him. "We'll reschedule. Are you...Can I come and see you? For a bit?"

There's silence on the other side, and Alec wonders if he should take back the offer. But Magnus doesn't just sound tired, he sounds glum, and deflated. Alec doesn't want him to be alone if he's going through crap, not when he's always been there for Alec.

"If you'd like," Magnus finally replies, and Alec is glad to hear a smile in his voice again. "I'm at  _Pandemonium-"_

"Great. I'll, uh, come pick you up?"

"So eager," Magnus teases, and Alec smiles, satisfied that his boyfriend's mood is improving. 

After saying their goodbyes, Alec ends the call, closes the training room door and heads for the parking lot. It hits him, as he's leaving the building, that months ago, he wouldn't dare to suggest this; to happily cancel a lesson and cheer up his boyfriend. 

But then, he never expected to have a boyfriend, or feel this way about someone. 

He's still smiling to himself as he heads in the direction of Magnus' old school. 

~

As he slides his cell phone back into his pocket, Magnus sighs. He's fighting a smile now, however, because Alec is on his way over, and what did Magnus do to deserve a guy like that? 

It's been one of those days, when - and no one's to blame - every small thing turns to a nightmare. Getting up feels like a struggle. Coffee isn't enough, and although cats are lovely, they don't push the painful thoughts away. 

On days like these, Magnus likes to keep busy. He knows there's nothing much else to do, other than to keep going. The thoughts will go away, in time, and fears will turn to hope, and he'll forget why he was even sad to begin with. 

Without a doubt, Magnus knows that Alec is worth opening up to. His boyfriend is right for him, in so many ways. Yet Magnus' heart has always been a heavy thing, a conflicted storm of painful, past reminders; of half-loves and fleeing loves and loves that leave him...hollowed.

Managing it all is tough, and despite his deliberate gestures and speeches, Magnus feels that sometimes he’ll be the only one to truly know, and understand, himself.

Until he met Alec, and suddenly, the world is new. He's challenging and complicated, just like Magnus, and Magnus starts to think,  _oh, alright, there's still someone out there for me._

For now, he's taking his two clients through their wedding dance, for the last time. It's Aline and Helen's final class with him, and Magnus doesn't even have to fake a smile as he comes back over to stand before them. He's been teaching the two women a simple Rumba. The routine isn't too hard, but it's tender and sweet, and watching the pair dance together today has improved his mood very much so.

"So," he says, greeting the two women with a warm smile. "Would you like me to put the music on?"

The pair nod, and begin to get into position. Magnus crosses the floor and turns the dial up, their chosen song beginning to dance out across the room. He watches Aline and Helen dance, standing back to give them room. He's smiling happily now, watching them. They're not professionals, but they dance with a kind of tentative affection. And that's what he's worked into the choreography; the hesitations, the careful trust.

From the first lesson he had with them, Magnus studies their characters, and gets a sense of how to choreograph appropriately. Aline is less reserved, and Magnus works this into the dance. Helen spins her out, or dips her during the end session, and Magnus knows that he made the right decision.

Their last session today is mainly going over it one last time. 

There's one, small step that Helen's unsure about. Aline adores it, as does Magnus, and they quietly team up to try and win over her fiancée together. 

They're working on this step, during the last five minutes, when the door in the far-right corner opens up. A sheepish Alec walks into the room, holding up a hand to give an awkward, half-wave.

"Uh, sorry," he says, eyes flicking between the group. "They told me at reception to come in. I'll...I'll wait outside?"

Magnus quickly shakes his head. “No, dear, we’re almost finished,” Magnus says brightly. As Alec comes over, Magnus quickly turns to Helen and Aline and says, quietly, “Oh.  _That’s_  Alec."

Aline and Helen exchange a knowing look, grins turning gleeful.

He might have been boasting about his boyfriend in some of their sessions.

Only occasionally.

After they introduce themselves, Aline gives Alec a once-over. "Hey, so would you mind giving us a hand with this?" she asks, and her grin turns mischievous. "My girl here won't include my favourite step. I want to prove her wrong." She smiles at Magnus, and then Alec. "Would you demonstrate it together, so that she can see how it looks?"

"Oh, uh...I haven't danced Latin in- in years."

"That's fine," Aline cuts in, smiling sweetly. "It's very basic."

Alec gulps.

If he didn’t find the woman so likeable, Magnus would retort, or brush aside her little game. But then he sees Helen’s small nod, and realises that yes, actually, it would help Helen to see the step from an outsider’s perspective.

He looks over at Alec. "Please?"

A sigh comes from him, and then Alec shrugs, content enough to let himself be dragged into the debate.

"Yeah. Okay." 

As Aline and Helen take a few steps back, Magnus grins at Alec's determined look, like a solider entering the war.

“Do try and contain your enthusiasm, dear,” Magnus teases, but he flashes Alec a quick smile in gratitude. 

Letting out a quiet huff, Alec obediently stands with his back to Magnus, letting him step closer until his chest is pressing to it. Magnus is acutely aware of the closeness now. Helen and Aline are watching with a smile on their face, though Aline’s is far less innocent than Helen’s.

The step is simple, just a simple three-step back and forth sway, but it's the hesitation that Aline wants to keep. The hand touches. 

Magnus begins.

From behind, Magnus slowly places the other dancer’s hand around his neck. Alec’s forearm is covered with dark hairs, and Magnus’ fingers run across them. He hears Alec inhale sharply. Swallowing, Magnus reminds himself that he’s supposed to be demonstrating. As they sway on the spot, Magnus skims his fingers slowly down Alec’s arm. The caress is feather-light and tentative, lovers sharing their first intimate moment.

He’s halfway down Alec’s arm when the other guy suddenly laughs. The sound catches Magnus entirely by surprise. It's a loud laugh, joyous and beautifully unashamed. It spills from Alec’s lips like sunlight through blinds. Natural and warm. Magnus is captivated, despite the disrupted moment.

Shaking his head fondly, Magnus waits until Alec’s laughter quietens.

“Really?” he says dryly. “You couldn’t at least  _try_  and be romantic, Alexander?”

It’s kind of a lie, because Magnus knows Alec is romantic. Just in his own way. He’s less of a public, open-arms kind of guy, but it doesn’t make his attentiveness or trust any less special, or affectionate. In fact, it's what Magnus loves the most about him.

And so, Magnus does the step again, and this time, Alec doesn’t laugh. His back stiffens, and Magnus realises he’s holding his breath this time. Tension hovers in the air, and Magnus relishes in it, gives into it and feels satisfied, but also entirely wound up as well. He skims his fingers down Alec's arm, moving down to his elbow, and then stroking down towards his ribs. 

He finishes off the move, slowly turning Alec around by the waist until they’re face to face. Magnus lets his smile appear slowly, holding Alec’s gaze. His pupils are slightly dilated, focus shifting between Magnus’ lips and eyes with equal intensity.

Someone clears their throat, and the pair jump, startled. 

“Thank you for the demonstration,” Aline’s voice cuts through the moment. "It was very helpful."

Magnus forces himself not to flush. He meets her smirk with a look of warning instead, fighting against his racing heartbeat.

Fortunately, Helen brings them back to the issue at hand. She's quiet for a few moments, and then a tentative smile tugs at her lips. Her long, blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail. It swings slightly as she nods.

“Okay,” Helen says. “We can keep it in the dance.”

Aline squeals happily, pulling her fiancée into a tight hug. She murmurs thank yous into the crook of her shoulder. Helen smiles into her hair, holding her gently. 

Magnus glances away, not wanting to intrude on the moment. He finds Alec watching him, studying him with open affection.

Having spent a great many years being watched and admired, or glared at – both on and off the dance floor – Magnus is surprised to find that Alec’s gaze makes him feel something  _new_. It’s stripping him down in the best way, like he's seeing the entirety of Magnus; flaws, colours and all. 

Alec takes a step closer, almost sub-consciously. The look in his eyes softens, an answer coming to their surface:

_I'm here for you._

Throat suddenly dry, Magnus skims a hand across his shirt, gripping his necklaces to focus his body. He can feel himself unfurling, letting his guard down once again. 

The room is suddenly unbearably hot. All traces of tiredness disappears instantly.

"Alec, I-"

Just as he's about to say thank you, or kiss him - honestly, Magnus didn't decide - the hugging couple break apart, and come back over to rejoin them. Helen is smiling as she watches Aline grin in victory. 

"So, you're both happy with the dance? All set for the big day?" he asks his clients. They nod, expressions equally certain. They're wearing matching, pleased smiles, the kind that Magnus loves to see; the quiet, victorious ones.

“I am,” Aline begins. She links her hand with her fiancée’s. “Are you?”

Helen nods, carefully reaching with her free hand to release her hair from its hold. It frames her face as it falls, reaching her shoulders and making her seem softer. But Magnus thinks that, actually, it's the way she’s looking at Aline that makes her gentle.

The look in her eyes is familiar. Why?

_Oh._

It suddenly hits Magnus that the look is a similar one to what he saw in Alec’s eyes mere seconds ago.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you both,” Magnus says graciously. He shakes hands with the pair, and they head outside together, with Magnus keeping an easy pace with Alec; chatting conversationally for a few minutes before saying their farewells.

It’s early evening now. The sun is dipping lower, painting the carpark in soft oranges and hints of red. Magnus follows Alec over to where his car is parked, climbing in with a smile. They're just in time to catch the sun setting in front of them. They both pause for a moment, watching. When Magnus turns to look at Alec, he’s studying him again.

“I believe, Alexander,” Magnus says, holding his gaze, “you have to put the key in for the engine to start.”

Alec grins at the familiar words, the same ones Magnus said during their first car ride together - back in the rain. The time when Magnus slipped his arm into Alec’s and realised that he wasn’t too keen on letting go.

“I figured,” Alec repeats.

Magnus smiles, delighted that he also remembered.

The engine shudders to life, and then they're on the move. It’s a short drive back to Magnus’ loft. They spend it listening to the quiet song playing from the radio. Magnus doesn't feel the need to fill the silence, and he senses that Alec seems to agree. Magnus does, however, notice the way Alec's hands grip the wheel tightly. His jaw is tense as well, and Magnus glances away. He swallows.

Anticipation flutters inside Magnus' chest then. It's strange, how he felt tired earlier. It seemed like years ago. 

When they park at the usual spot, Alec doesn’t make a move to climb out. Not like he usually does. Magnus pauses, halfway through reaching for the handle. He raises an eyebrow in silent query.

Is Alec waiting for an invitation?

Magnus isn’t sure why this time would be any different. 

But then he catches Alec’s hands tapping anxiously against the wheel, and then his throat tightens up again.

 _Ah. Yes,_  Magnus thinks to himself.  _That_.

The close proximity of the car grows, and Magnus takes the first step.

He takes a slow breath in, looks at Alec and asks, “Would you like to come inside-“

“Yes,” Alec blurts out. He abruptly lets go of the wheel. “I mean, uh, yeah. That’d be...Yeah. I’d like that.” A hint of pink flushes across his cheeks. Magnus smiles, but he's well aware that his own face has started to grow warm. 

“Wonderful," Magnus hears himself say. At least his brain has kicked in enough to behave normally. His heart gives a tiny jump as Alec grins across at him. Magnus smirks back, ignoring his racing heart. It's like he’s a teenager again, and his crush is sitting beside him.

It’s brand-new and enticing; safe and a little bit unguarded too.

Alec lock the car, and they walk across to the loft. As they take the short walk across to his block, Magnus feels acutely aware of Alec’s arm brushing his as they stroll. When they reach the top, Magnus fumbles –  _actually fumbles,_ curse his unpractised seduction techniques – with the key.

He covers it by quickly asking, “Do you fancy ordering food? I’ll let you pick,” he lowers his voice to a whisper. The tease is supposed to work as a distraction from the tension, but it just ends up coming out husky and hoarse.

“Chinese?” Alec suggests. His own voice is oddly constricted. It’s not the first time he’s been inside Magnus’ loft, but when Alec steps in, he gives the place a slow once-over. They both smile when the soft padding of paws announces the cats’ arrival.

Chairman Meow and Church welcome Alec with happy purrs, appearing as soon as the door opens. Magnus watches as his boyfriend is all too happy to kneel and greet the cats for a few minutes.

Magnus, meanwhile, uses the distraction to clear his head. He shrugs out of his jacket and heads over to the phone, sliding out one of his favourite restaurant menus. He gestures for Alec to come and choose whenever he’s ready.

As Alec comes over, peering over Magnus’ shoulder to study the menu, Magnus fights the urge to grin. The whole thing is so domestic and casual, sweet in all the right ways; having Alec beside him, peering at a takeout menu while Magnus' cats nudge at their ankles.

Magnus truly can’t remember the last time he felt this content. This full, wholesome happiness that takes hold of his entire body.

“Uh, Magnus?” Alec’s question is asked quietly, stirring Magnus from his thoughts. His hand wraps gently around Magnus’ wrist, nudging him back to reality.

“Hm?”

“You looked busy, so I wrote down my order,” Alec says, nodding to the notepad he must’ve scribbled on while Magnus was zoning out. When Magnus looks up, he finds a charming, unmistakably smug look on Alec’s face. The guy clearly knows that he's the reason for Magnus' daydreams, and he doesn't look very guilty about it either.

“I  _was_  busy, thank you.”

Alec nods. “Your silent conversation with the kitchen island looked seriously,” he agrees solemnly. “Did you win?”

“Do you want Chinese or not?” Magnus mutters. But even as he swipes the pen from his grinning boyfriend, Magnus finds his own smile betraying him. He holds Alec’s gaze, raising an eyebrow in challenge. He lifts the phone to his ear, listening to the dial tone as he stares across.

Alec doesn't give in. He points down to the floor, at the purring cats. "They're on my side," he points out. Before Magnus can argue, Alec crouches down again. He scratches Chairman behind the ears. Like the traitor he is, the cat pushes into Alec’s palm, choosing his side. Magnus glares down at the pair. But if his pets love Alec, then Magnus is already won over.

Mostly.

"Hi there, can I please take your order?"

A woman’s voice comes from down the line, and Magnus quickly gives the girl their order - and address - still watching Alec with the cats as he holds the phone to his ear. When the call ends, Magnus pours them out a glass of wine each, and they sit at the kitchen table. 

Thankfully, the delivery doesn’t take too long to arrive. The pair take their food over to the couch and sit cross-legged, eating out of the boxes and containers, digging in eagerly. They talk about bits and pieces, but Magnus finds there’s no need for wasted words.

It’s a relaxing evening, despite the energy crackling in the air. Magnus enjoys the food, and the company, immensely. He's happy to listen to Alec chat about some shenanigans that Jace got caught up with in his teen years. He loves seeing Alec like this; without a care in holding back. He’s talking with a smile on his face, and joy in his eyes, and Magnus can’t help but watch his hands move animatedly, or his cheeks flush as his enthusiasm grows. He’s always enjoyed Alec’s energy. And tonight, it’s bolder, and Magnus rises to the unspoken challenge.

When it’s Magnus’ turn to speak, he shares tales about his trips around the world, or people he’s met through competitions and his travels. He heightens the stories occasionally, adding a flourish here or a slight change there, but Alec narrows his eyes. He doesn’t interrupt, but Magnus gets the sense that he can read him well enough to work out the truth, but enjoys the storytelling nonetheless. 

As they finish up with eating, Magnus glances at the clock. He does a double take. It’s almost ten o’clock, and the time seems to have passed with a new kind of speed altogether. He barely feels tired anymore. The exhaustion has been replaced with some wine, good food settling in his stomach, and a gorgeous guy with full lips and dressed in a dark green sweater that hugs his body in all the right places-

“I was thinking about what you said before. On the roof.”

Hiding his surprise at the sudden sound of Alec’s voice – soft and sure – Magnus curves a hand around the stem of his glass.

“Mm. Yes?” he asks. They're sitting opposite each other on the couch, Magnus' legs laying parallel beside Alec's. 

“You know, about dancing as…well, us. Thing is, I’ve never danced like that," Alec quietly explains. "Not in a competition. Character dancing is one thing, but this,” Alec pauses, waving his hand to indicate the short distance between them on the couch, “is something else. Good,” he hastily adds, “but, yeah. Anyway, what I was thinking…Earlier, when you kindly had me demonstrate that step-“ he pauses to give Magnus a mock glare, and Magnus just grins back, unashamed – “it actually helped.”

"Oh?"

Alec nods. He leans forwards, but he doesn't say anything more. 

“Okay,” Magnus says, slowly. He sips down the last of his wine before setting his glass down on the coffee table. "What are you-"

"Can I try it again?" Alec asks.  

“The step?”

“Well, the dance. I, uh, I liked the look of it.”

Magnus pauses. The silence stretches out as he thinks it over. For some reason, Alec's proposition takes him by surprise. But then, Magnus rather likes the idea of leading Alec through a Rumba, especially under the low, amber lights of the loft. He's also once again pleasantly taken aback that someone can actually surprise him. 

There's no one like Alec, Magnus is coming to realise. 

A sort of proud certainty overcomes Magnus then, as he glances across at Alec and realises  _yes, this one’s mine, and I’m his._

His boyfriend fiddles with his glass again. He seemingly misinterpret Magnus' look, because Alec clears his throat, ducking his head.

"Right. Yeah. It was a dumb idea. Sorry, it’s just…I was just thinking about the ‘baring yourself on-stage’ thing, and there was an intimacy to that dance, and I wanted to try…” Alec cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Never mind. Forget it.” He huffs out an awkward laugh. “It was a stupid idea, I…”

Smiling, Magnus cuts him off by taking a deep breath and standing up from the couch. He holds Alec’s gaze and says, “I wasn’t judging you, Alec. I was admiring you.” Before Alec can say anything else, or talk himself out of it, Magnus extends his hand. “Come on,” he invites.

Alec relaxes, his shoulders falling. He plucks at a loose thread on his sleeve, and then stands. His expression is fierce with determination, and Magnus recognises it as his game face, his mission concentration. 

Alec nods, taking Magnus' hand.

"Okay," he says.

~

As Magnus leads him over to the carpeted space before the fireplace, Alec is aware of each ring on his boyfriend’s fingers, and each step they take together.

They’ve not begun to dance, but already Alec lets his body and mind slip into work mode. Not because he’s unsure, or even anxious, but because he doesn’t want to mess up whatever happens afterwards. Doesn't want to ruin a perfect evening. He wants to give himself over entirely to Magnus.

Magnus smiles, and the low lights catch the small buttons on his elegant waistcoat. Alec quickly focuses. He studies Magnus' footwork, as he leads him through the simple, three-step Rumba sequence. Alec remembers it easily, but it gives him a few minutes to catch his breath.  

"Got it?" Magnus softly asks.

Alec nods. "Yeah."

Does he? He certainly has the dance memorised, but is he ready to dance it with  _Magnus?_ To feel skin against skin, hips slowly pressing to each other's? Dancing the Rumba is almost as intimate as kissing. Alec feels prickles of anxiety flicker inside his chest. 

But then Magnus switches on some music. A slow song quietly spills out from the stereo. Somewhere between the singer's lilting, warm voice, and Magnus' inviting smile, Alec lets go of the reservations. He pushes aside the fear, and steps to Magnus. 

Not that he needed much prompting.

But there’s something magical in the blossoming evening; tentative, but consuming. It overwhelms Alec in the best way possible. He doesn’t say anything, doesn't need to. He knows Magnus is also feeling it. The other guy’s pupils are dilated, lids fluttering lazily as he focuses on Alec.

“Ready?” Magnus asks, and the word seems to touch Alec’s lips. They’re standing close together, not in proper hold, but in a more relaxed, intimate embrace; with Magnus’ arms around Alec’s neck. Alec’s hands find a hold around Magnus’ waist, fingers pushing against the curve of his back, and spine.

The dance begins without a word. In an instant, Alec is embracing more than Magnus’ body, but his heart too. The slow steps are more of a sway than anything else, their bodies aligning, thighs slowly pushing back and forth as they rock.

They’re supposed to be learning something from this, but Alec’s hazy thoughts can’t remember what that is exactly.

All Alec knows, as he dances with Magnus and feels the soft rug beneath his feet - and the warmth from the fire - is that he wants to  _touch_. And explore. The dance, and the slow song, are made for touching. For expressing with hands what lips struggle to say.

Alec gazes at Magnus, finding it all too easy to lose himself entirely in the guy's alluring eyes. 

Lips twitching up into an unfairly attractive smile, Magnus cocks his head. He searches Alec's face. Hesitation briefly flickers into Magnus' eyes. He waits.

Only when Alec nods does Magnus start to move more freely.

Slowly, Magnus unwinds his arms, fingers skimming down Alec's neck as he steps back. He moves - slowly, deliberately - to come around Alec's side, standing behind him, just like he did earlier today. Only, this time, he doesn't touch Alec's arm. Magnus wraps a strong arm around Alec's waist, pulling him flush against his chest. The sudden closeness coaxes a soft groan from Alec's lips. The heat of him, the realness of hard muscles and heavy breathes, makes Alec’s head spin.

Magnus dips his chin into the crook of Alec's shoulder. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmurs, lips ghosting close to his ear. 

"Don't," Alec mumbles. "Please. Don't." He savours the closeness, can't help but tilt his head back, desperate for  _more_.

"If you insist."

Fingers dancing across his torso, Magnus’ hands tease at the hem of Alec’s sweater. His nails scrape against the first of his ribs, and Alec fights back another groan. Warm fingers and cool rings press to his abs, and Alec inhales sharply. 

Magnus stops teasing. In one, slow move, he lifts Alec's jumper up, and over his head. When his shirt reaches his ears, Alec briefly ducks in assistance. A quiet laugh spills from Magnus’ lips, barely audible over the music. He discards the sweater onto the sofa. Even though his heart is pounding away with something fierce, Alec doesn’t feel hesitant. Not anymore.

He shivers with anticipation, but delight too. Magnus' hands continue to explore his chest, tracing patterns into his skin while Alec focuses on remembering to breathe. Until now, he's never allowed himself to want this. But here Magnus is, guiding and being led, just like their dances. Equal partnership. Shared control.

Alec's eyelids start to flutter when Magnus runs a hand down his back. His fingers trace the curve of Alec’s spine, teasing out another groan from Alec. He's helpless to the pleasure of the sensation, hands reaching back to hold onto something, anything. He grips the back of Magnus' thighs, pulling him even closer. 

It's Magnus' turn to groan now, and the sound is raw with desire.

He's about to count it as a victory, when Alec suddenly feels Magnus standing closer now, and then his lips are making the same trail, mouth and tongue teasing across Alec’s back and shoulders. All the while, his hands are wrapped around Alec’s chest. From behind, it’s like an embrace and a dance all at once.

" _Magnus_ ," Alec murmurs, his name half-whispered, half-choked out.

"Yes?"

As Magnus’ lips reach the crook of Alec’s shoulder - moving across the dip between his collar bone - Alec lets out another groan.

_Enough._

Done with waiting, Alec spins around. He uses the momentum to surge forwards, catching Magnus’ lips between his own. His hands cup either side of Magnus' face. The kiss in urgent and fast. Desperate. It dissolves the little space between them.

As they kiss, Alec’s hands fumble with Magnus’ waistcoat and shirt, but he gets past the tiny buttons, and then the shirt underneath. He quickly shimmies the material up and over Magnus’ head. It leaves Alec facing a flushed, gorgeous guy who’s looking at him like he’s the answer to a prayer. Or a lost treasure.

Alec runs his hands across Magnus' torso, smirking a bit when Magnus' abs quiver at the touch. He revels in the quiet noises, the way Magnus' breathes grow more laboured. 

With their shirts gone, Alec holds Magnus’ gaze for one, long moment, before reaching down to unbuckle Magnus’ belt. His fingers aren’t shaking anymore, but his throat still feels dry. It’s overwhelming, consuming and exhilaration. But Alec knows that they both want this. They're ready for the next step.

He can feel it in the burning touches, in the small smiles passing between them.

As Magnus steps out of his pants, Alec fumbles with his own, discarding them with only a little awkwardness. But it doesn’t matter. Not really. Because when he straightens, Magnus snakes his arms around Alec’s neck and kisses him with a kind of slow, lazy heat. It makes Alec’s knees almost give in. His lips are so warm, and Alec pushes closer, his muscles quivering as Magnus’ chest burns a delicious heat into his own.

Magnus groans this time, and a wave of satisfaction makes Alec grip his hips tighter and dip his head. He presses his mouth against Magnus’ neck, opening his lips and sucking, hard enough to make Magnus’ fingernails dig into his neck. Alec realises that they’re still sort of swaying, but on the spot now. It pushes every inch of their bodies together. Thighs. Forearms. Chests. Every sensation and feeling is shaped with longing, and desire.

Alec kisses upwards, towards the corner of Magnus’ mouth, and the other guy hums from somewhere deep and urgent in the back of his throat.

The sound is what sets Alec off. It’s one thing to feel wanted, but  _this_ , feeling desired, and  _appreciated_ , is ecstasy. And to make someone like Magnus lose control sends pleasure spiking off across every inch of Alec's body.

Alec pulls back, just for a second. He studies Magnus, casting an eye over the small marks above his neck where Alec’s lips and teeth marked into his skin.

“You good?” Magnus murmurs. The usual smoothness in his voice is gone. He sounds wrecked, almost as messy and unkempt as his hair is. Which Alec definitely recalls tugging his hands through seconds ago. He definitely wants to do that again. Right now.

Alec nods. “Yeah. Yeah. Really good.” He’s sure he’s smirking now, or grinning like an idiot. It doesn't matter. Magnus smiles back.

And just like that, everything comes back into focus. The crackling fireplace. The dim lights. The soft rug teasing at Alec’s toes. But nothing is as bright, or anchoring, as Magnus, who’s now only wearing briefs, just like Alec. His brown skin glistens, and his chest heaves, the strong muscles quivering. Alec traces a fingertip over them again, smirking as Magnus stutters out a breath.

It’s Alec’s turn, however, to lose concentration then. Magnus smooths his palms across the planes of Alec’s back, but he doesn’t stop there. He follows a path downwards, curving over Alec’s ass, and gripping him tightly. He pushes Alec closer, and-

“Enough…teasing,” Alec mumbles into Magnus’ lips. He nips carefully at the bottom one as Magnus’ hands continue to massage his ass.

“I couldn’t agree more, dear,” Magnus mumbles.

Before Alec can catch a second to breathe, or gain the upper hand – not that either of them has much control right now – Magnus’ hands dig firmly into the backs of Alec’s thighs. And then he’s tugging Alec up, and into his arms. Thankfully, Alec’s instincts kick in. His legs wrap around Magnus' waist, heels digging into Magnus’ ass, keeping himself anchored as Magnus holds him up in place.

Alec blinks, slightly dazed. “Whoa,” he says, palms coming up to cup Magnus’ face. It’s not like he hasn’t fantasised about Magnus holding him like this. But this is different. He never imagined the heat, or the smiles. He didn’t fully predict the delightful friction of skin against skin. Or the rough feeling of Magnus’ stubble scraping across Alec’s neck.

He certainly didn’t let himself imagine what’s happening now: Magnus quickly extending an arm to clumsily hit the stereo, turning the song off; Alec dipping his head to kiss him, silence blossoming into groans, sloppy kisses and quiet laughter. Picturing this was one thing, but Alec thinks that nothing – surprisingly – beats reality. The entirety of the moment.

Alec pushes for more, grows more confident with his kisses. He kisses Magnus, hungrier and deeper, electing delicious noises from his boyfriend’s eager lips. Magnus gets the hint after a few seconds. He stumbles backwards, heading for the bedroom door. Alec laughs as they manoeuvre themselves, still in Magnus’ arms. But he has faith, and trust, and isn’t surprised in the slightest that Magnus can balance him and use his hip to push the handle down.

The door swings open, revealing Magnus' bedroom.

“Mm,” Alec mutters, as they collapse together onto the bed, “that’s kind of a turn on.”

“Opening a door?” Magnus teases back, but he’s breathless and groaning as Alec continues to kiss across his jaw, straddling him on the bed. He balances his weight carefully, but Magnus looks like he can take it, enjoys the friction. 

“Yeah. Well, the capability, I guess,” Alec says. “I don’t know. Shut up,” he mutters, grinning and shaking his head. “You’re hot. Carry on––“

“Very well.”

Alec abruptly cuts off when Magnus teases his hand across Alec’s briefs, letting his fingers skim down his length with infuriating slowness. Letting out a loud groan, Alec buries his head into Magnus’ shoulder, struck with the need to be as close as possible, to taste, lick, bite and kiss every inch of skin he can manage.

He also thinks,  _whoa, I’m actually almost naked with this guy I’m crazy about and it’s awesome. And I’m not scared of messing it up._

They quit teasing barely a minute later. After a quick pause to discard their final layers, Alec then carefully balances himself over Magnus again. Although it’s clear that they can both take a little weight. Magnus is all hands and firmness, nails scraping down Alec’s back; his toes making small lines across the back of Alec’s thighs as he locks his legs around Alec.

“Drawer,” Magnus mumbles, voice thick and husky. Alec hastily throws open the drawer, and gets the small tube out, and grabs one of the condom wrappers too. He turns back to Magnus, legs still firmly pressing into the sheets, and either side of Magnus’ hips.

Alec pauses then, not quite shy, but certainly hesitant.

"Hey."

Magnus pushes up onto his elbows. He strokes a hand through Alec’s hair, and some of the apprehension fades away.

“I’ve got you,” Magnus says, quietly. Something in that, in the confirmation and the unspoken question, makes Alec smile. It makes him lose whatever shred of control or hesitation he had left. He pushes Magnus back down onto the bed, and kisses him deeply, and slowly. He lets their mouths explore, tongues teasing at lower lips and pushing further in, growing languished, but firm in their want, in their  _need_.

As they kiss, Magnus starts to grind upwards, pushing their hips together. Alec stutters out a curse, and a few shaky breathes; the intensity of the heat overwhelmingly pleasant. He’s almost painfully hard now. So is Magnus. Alec squeezes out a fair amount of lube onto his hand and passes the tube to Magnus, waiting till he’s discarded the small item on the bedside table. The instant he turns back, Alec lets his hands wander, matching Magnus’ strokes as they pick up a rhythm together.

It doesn't take them long to fall over the edge. They're both pent-up, far too aroused to form coherent sentences. Alec mumbles into Magnus' shoulder, and Magnus grips at Alec's neck with his fingers, pressing bruising kisses into his neck. 

It's afterwards that Alec's grateful for their professions. Stamina, as it turns out, is certainly a perk off the dancefloor. They spend a short while trying to catch their breath, but then wandering hands turns to soft kisses, and then they're back at it again. 

"What do you like? Tell me," Magnus says, as he's leaning down, pressing kisses into Alec's thighs. 

"What? Uh, you," Alec blurts out. 

"As lovely as that is, dear, I meant, what do you  _like?_ " Magnus dips his head and takes some of Alec's length into his mouth. 

"S-still the same. You."

Magnus glances up, and Alec smirks, the sight of Magnus' dilated pupils and flushed cheeks stirring his confidence. Caught by surprise, Magnus hovers for a few moments. He shakes his head, lets out a small hum as he says, "Well, then. Who am I to discourage that?"

Minutes later, and Alec doesn't think he'll ever forget the glorious sight of Magnus riding his cock. He rolls them both over, and Alec groans, gazing up at him with hooded lids. Chest gleaming with a thin line of sweat, Magnus picks up a tantalisingly slow rhythm. He hisses, and Alec groans too, cursing as his cock throbs inside of Magnus. This time, when he comes, Magnus throws his head back, and the sight alone is enough to drive Alec wild. He digs his nails into Magnus' hips, riding it out together. Thighs trembling, Alec cries out, nails marking Magnus' hips as he tips over the edge. 

When he's sane enough to peel open his eyes, Alec finds Magnus already grinning down at him. He's hovering over him, fingertips dancing across his sweat-soaked chest. Alec captures his hand, quickly presses a kiss to his wrist.

"Mm," Magnus murmurs. He bends, leaning over to capture Alec's mouth. He kisses him slowly, tongue sweeping across his lower lip. Alec almost smiles at that. It's endearing, that Magnus can go from riding him like a god, to kissing him sweetly. 

After they clean up and finally collapse back onto the bed, they lay side by side, facing each other. Magnus' hand strokes through Alec's hair, and Alec finds himself tracing circles into his boyfriend's shoulders, finding a home in the hard bone and burning hot skin.

And he realises it then, how much of a home this guy is. Even before they lost themselves in sheets, and dinners, and dances. Magnus was home as soon as he opened the door, already halfway into Alec's life, and heart.

Magnus senses the change in mood. Alec doesn't know how, but he does.

"What's this for?" Magnus softly asks, delicately pressing the pad of his thumb into Alec's lower lip, only making his smile widen. 

"Just...this." Alec swallows. "Yeah, this," he repeats.

"This...what?" Magnus prompts quietly. He leans forwards, head against the pillow as he watches Alec. 

"You're gonna make me say it, aren't you?" Alec sighs, letting out a quiet chuckle. He studies Magnus for a few moments, and then replies, "I'm glad this happened. I'm glad we happened.  _Are_  happening. That's why."

Magnus' expression softens. Under the low light, he's painted in hints of gold and bronze, his muscles hard, but his smile soft. 

"Good," Magnus says. He dips forwards, pressing a soft, gentle kiss into Alec's jaw. He hovers there, before pulling back, facing Alec again. "As am I," he adds quietly.

"Mm."

As they lay side by side, lost in the afterglow, Alec finally starts to feel the long day catch up with him. Lids growing heavier, he sighs, settling against the cool sheets, and smiling when Magnus shuffles closer, pulling the sheets up over them. 

"Goodnight, Alec."

For some reason, Magnus' words spark a memory in Alec's mind. His eyes fly open, and Magnus blinks, surprised.

Before he can stop it, Alec feels laughter suddenly spills from his lips, loudly. He covers his mouth quickly, but it's too late. 

Magnus pushes onto an elbow, eyes narrowed. "What?" he inquires.

After he's stopped himself long enough to explain, Alec says, "It's just...You said....'I don't reckon you're going to get much out of me tonight.' And..." Alec cuts off, laughing again as he gestures between them.

"Alexander, how brazen you are." 

After a few moments, however, Magnus joins in, and then they both quietly laugh it out. Soft sheets and peace wraps around Alec, and he stops laughing, exhaustion once again washing over him. The sound of laughter hovers in the air, and he smiles. 

"Goodnight, Alexander."

"Night, Magnus," he replies, eyes closing, but not before he catches Magnus watching him, quietly studying him. 

Alec waits until his boyfriend is falling asleep, and then closes his eyes again, worn-out, tired and very satisfied.

~

There’s a new sunrise every day, but Magnus always likes to think that the world knows when you need a few more hours to yourself.

Like when your boyfriend is quietly snoring - his gorgeous chest rising in  _your_  bed - and you want to relax and enjoy that for a while longer.

Realising that it's weird to just sit and stare at Alec, Magnus rolls onto his back. He sits quietly for a few minutes, but then grows restless; caught between blushing like a kid and preening like an even bigger idiot. He settles for a smile, quietly checking his phone and answering a few messages from his friends. Cat and Ragnor want to know why he missed their calls last night, so he spends a few minutes typing back a rather smug answer. And apology. 

There's also a single message from Isabelle, consisting of a simple winking emoji.

Magnus doesn't reply to that. It's probably rude to text her back before Alec is even awake.

A loud buzz suddenly sounds out. It stirs Alec rather quickly. He sits up, blinking drowsily, and reaches for his vibrating phone. Magnus leans back against the pillows, shamelessly eyeing Alec up as he stretches across the bed. Strands of dark hair fall across his face, and Magnus' eyes move down, admiring the way Alec's forearm muscles tighten as he stretches forwards to grab the phone.

The phone stops vibrating just as Alec reaches it. He blinks again, shaking his head, and discards it back onto the table.

"Ugh. What’s the time?” Alec mumbles, voice gruff with sleep.

Magnus swallows, adding something else to the growing list of things about his boyfriend that turn him on. 

“Barely nine,” Magnus tells him, hoping Alec isn’t keen to rush out. Magnus, for one, wouldn’t mind a lazy morning, but he tells himself that Alec might have a busy schedule. And so, he gets ready for the disappointment, ready to fake a smile–

“Huh. Iz cleared my schedule.”

“Hm?”

Alec points to the phone, a small smile on his face now. “I texted her as we ate dinner last night. She put two and two together. Thinks she’s smart and gave me the morning off,” he grumbles, but Magnus can see his lips twitching as he fights back a happy smile.

“Oh. The horror,” Magnus says seriously. He leans back, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, we did do  _plenty_  of Championships preparation last night. A great deal of positions.”

Alec snorts at that. "Wow," he says, shaking his head as he laughs.

But dismay surges through Magnus when Alec's smile suddenly fades. His expression suddenly turns solemn.

“Oh, no.”

Magnus sits up in an instant, imploring, “What? Alexander, what is it?”

Alec shakes his head sadly. “I think I’ve forgotten all the steps. I may have to rehearse again. And again.”

Realising he's being played, Magnus gapes at his impertinent boyfriend. He struggles to hold his gaze, surrendering with a sigh.

"If you insist," Magnus sighs, and then climbs into Alec's lap before he can say another word. He straddles his hips, leaning down to flash Alec a victorious smile. Because Alec is now the one gaping, and staring up at him with a dark, hungry look in his gorgeous eyes. 

"Hm, does  _this_  jolt your memory?”

He kisses down Alec’s chest, and then back up to his neck, sucking hard enough to make Alec keel, back arching off the bed. This only makes the friction worse, because his chest pushes into Magnus’, the distance closing.

Magnus pushes him back down, lets a small noise of appreciation push from his lips. He smirks down at Alec. “That helping?”

Alec nods. "Yeah," he says, breathlessly. He raises an eyebrow. "Definitely wouldn't object to more..."

Magnus lets his expression turn solemn. "Anything for victory,” he says, but he's back to smirking as soon as groans start coming from his boyfriend again. Magnus kisses across his chest, thighs, and lets the rising sun stay outside of their small, private world. For now, he loses himself in the sensation; in quiet moans, soft sheets and Alec's strong, unwavering hold...

~

They do eventually get up.

Even if it’s midday, Magnus reassures Alec that it still counts as breakfast if there’s coffee, eggs and the radio playing.

After they spend a lazy morning together, Alec reluctantly excuses himself. Magnus is almost glad, because he's got a Salsa class to teach in a bit, and really didn't want to have to kick his boyfriend out. 

Alec's heading for the School, meeting up with the others for an interview with the dance Board. Every Season, they choose representatives from each School to chat with, and get their feedback on rules and ideas for the following year. 

As he shrugs on his jacket, Alec starts to smirk. "I'm surprised I was chosen again, given my terrible partner choice this year."

Magnus leans on the kitchen counter, watching him. “Hm. That's odd. I hear good things about your partner,” he says innocently. He tilts his head to the side. “Tell me more.”

Done with collecting his things, Alec comes to stand in front of him. He studies Magnus, from toe to hair, and then sighs. "Well, uh, I guess he's okay to look at." Alec steps closer, resting his hands on either side of the kitchen island's counter, trapping Magnus between his arms. 

"I heard that too," Magnus purrs in agreement. He tilts his chin, brushing Alec's nose with his own. "Continue."

"Great eyes. Moves like a god. He's-"

Alec doesn't get to finish the sentence. His phone buzzes again, and he sighs, staring down at the screen before shoving it back into his jacket pocket. He mutters a curse, and then turns back to Magnus.

The focused, dutiful dancer is back then. Magnus watches Alec straighten, shoulders thrown back, and head held high. But despite the solider-like focus, there's still a new softness in Alec's eyes, and Magnus doesn't have to look far to see  _his_  Alec below the facade. Well, every version is his Alec really, but it’s certainly one of Magnus' favourites; the Alec without walls, or reservations.

Alec leans in for a quick kiss. When he pulls back he says, "I'll call you soon."

Magnus nods, taking a sip from his coffee mug to hide his stupid grin. He waits until the door's closed behind Alec to close his eyes, and sigh. The cats are done fighting over the water bowl for now, and pad over towards him. 

He's in such a good mood that he doesn't even scold them when they leap up onto the kitchen counter.

Chairman Meow gives a loud purr, and Magnus listens intently, nodding.

"You think so, dear?" he asks the cat, who nudges him, as if to say ‘yes’. Magnus then turns to the door, at where Alec just stood, and then grins down at his pets.

“That’s good," he admits softly, "because I'm quite certain I love him too.”

~

"So, did you and Magnus...You did! You did, didn't you?"

Alec considers clapping a hand across Isabelle's mouth. But they're not ten years old anymore. He settles for a scathing glare instead, hastily glancing around to see if anyone's overheard his sister's shamelessly nosy questions.

"Iz, please. Let's, uh, not discuss my sex life with the entire School." 

They're standing outside of the main meeting room, waiting for the members of the Board to call them in for their interviews. There are a few other students and teachers gathered outside, but they're talking in small groups. No one's within earshot, thankfully.

"Tell me everything," Isabelle insists, and if he wasn't so freaked out, Alec would almost be impressed with her persistence.

"No," he says firmly.

"But-"

Fortunately, Jace chooses that moment to look up from his phone, and actually pay attention.

He shakes his head, a frown twisting onto his face. "No. No. I love you, Alec, but...no." Jace grimaces. "You can keep the details to yourself. But...congratulations. I'm happy if you're happy." He offer Alec a quick thumbs up before returning to his phone.

"Uh, thanks," Alec mutters. Now he's only got Izzy left to deal with.

But apparently it's 'save Alec from awkward sibling talk' because someone else darts around the corner, rushing over to them. Max is beaming as he runs up to them, hair flopping across his forehead.

He stops, cheeks flushed, and says, "Guess what? I passed my final pre-Bronze exam! I can move up to Bronze."

Jace lowers his phone as soon as he hears. He kneels down to high-five Max, and then the kid awkwardly accepts hugs and congratulations from the rest of their group. Isabelle leans down to hug him tightly, and Alec reaches out to tousle his hair, something he feels that only older siblings are entitled to do.

Max glares, sticking out his tongue, which Alec definitely does not replicate.  

"There you four are," a voice calls out from a nearby classroom. The door shuts, and out comes Maryse, approaching her children with a small, but genuine smile. She's carrying a large folder, probably all set for the meeting soon.

Alec shuffles, trying to cover up the awkward realisation that his little brother, and mother, almost just walked in on sex talk.

He's distracted when Maryse speaks up, capturing his attention.

“I’m trusting you’re all making good progress with your dances?” she inquires politely. When they nod back, she adds, “And that you’re ready for the Board meeting soon?”

Again, the group nods. As they wait to be called in, they exchange a few more minutes of small talk before a man in a dark suit opens the meeting room door. He gestures them all inside. Just before they go into the meeting, Izzy squeezes Alec's hand.

“Proud of you,” she whispers.

Alec doesn’t have the heart to roll his eyes. He squeezes back and smiles.

“Thanks,” he says, and means it. He knows his sister isn’t just congratulating him on having sex, or for the dance success. It’s more than that. It’s both, really, and more. It’s an Alec who fights for what he wants, and knows his strengths and works on the flaws without having the crushing feeling of failure or pressure.

He's still smiling as they head inside.

~

"So, tell me, dear friend, was it worth it? Abandoning your  _best_  friends to have mind-blowing sex?"

Magnus isn't fazed by Cat's words, or Ragnor's childish snicker. He stands his ground, takes a huge gulp from his mocha and hums as he scans over the menu. They're back at  _Cafe Colette_  again - Magnus' subtle apology for ignoring them last night - and he's surprised that Cat waited even five minutes to inquire about Alec.

He's also fighting down a smirk, because mind-blowing is definitely a word that comes to mind-

"Oh, brilliant. Now he's bloody reliving it," Ragnor retorts. He turns his glare on Catarina. "Great job, darling."

But even as they spend a few more minutes teasing him, Magnus drinks it all in with a smile. It's a pleasant feeling, to have this kind of comfort; these kind of friends. In the recent months, Magnus realises how much his family has expanded, how his and Alec's worlds haven't just come together, but mixed together nicely. There's a harmony, despite their differences. One time, they stopped at Jocelyn and Luke's for dinner, to celebrate their wedding anniversary, and Magnus recalls sitting around the table and registering just how many people he has to care about, and who love him in return.

"He's special, isn't he?"

"Hm?"

Magnus glances up, and across at his friends, returning from his daydream to find Ragnor smiling now. The softness in his voice surprises Magnus.

He smiles back. "Very," he admits.

"Then we're happy for you. And will reduce the teasing to-" Catarina pauses, chewing her lip as she thinks - "one per hour?"

Ragnor holds up his mug of tea in agreement. He turns to Magnus and says, "I, for one, am glad to see you completely moved on from that ghastly woman."

While Cat nods in unison, Magnus doesn't ask for a confirmation. He knows exactly who his friends are referring too. What's satisfying is that Camille's name, or memory, doesn't really bother Magnus anymore. It still hurts, like a dull bruise, but it's fading. And fast. 

He's about to open his mouth, and thank them, when Cat's grin turns feral. Gleeful.

"So," she begins, "what's a Lightwood like in the sheets?" She pretends to slip a pen out from behind her ear. "Intense? Passionate. Tell us in detail. In the name of journalism truth, of course."

And to think that Magnus was about to thank them.

He sigh, pointing a finger in warning. "If any of this goes in the paper, I  _will_  sue your beautiful asses."

"Understood." Catarina smiles sweetly. "So, does Alec have a beautiful ass?"

"I'm not answering that."

Ragnor's lips twitch. "I bet it was beautiful when you stuck your-"

"If you finish that sentence," Magnus warns, cutting him off before they get thrown out, "I will make you relive the Boston Tea Party."

"You wouldn't," Ragnor gasps, face suddenly ashen. He looks down at his mug of tea, holding it closer to his chest. Cat, meanwhile, is struggling to suppress her laughter, hiding her smirk behind her own mug. 

"Oh, I'll find a way, dear." It's Magnus' turn to smile sweetly now. "Try me," he invites.

Before another wit-war breaks out, Catarina holds up both hands, silencing them. 

"I've missed this," she admits, smiling cheerfully. "And I, for one, know that you're going to kick serious ass in the Championships. I promise I'll write the best winning article. I won't even mention any of your drunk adventures in Japan."

Magnus shoots her a glare, leaving Ragnor to cackle out his amusement. 

Deciding that Catarina's smile, however, is genuine enough, Magnus lifts his mug, pleased when all three of them raise theirs in a toast.

And  _oh,_  he thinks,  _I could get used to this happiness._

~

The remaining weeks to the finals fly by. Their two dances are tweaked, sharpened and rehearsed to perfection. As the School spends the last week preparing for a tense weekend of competing, Alec decides to use their time wisely. They don't make any drastic changes to either of their dances. Instead, they work on sharpening their footwork, and going over one particular step, the Fallaway Reverse Slip Pivot. It's a tough spin to nail, but they keep going, working at it until they're content to keep it in their Viennese Waltz.

Alec watches Isabelle perform her final two dances, and smiles as he watches. She and Meliorn have put together two beautiful routines, and Alec has no doubt that his sister is set for victory. He and Lydia agree that it's probably best not to watch each other perform. They're good sports, but on the days of the competition, Alec doesn't want to knock his, or his friend's confidence. They're both fighting for first place in the same rank, after all.

And every time he sees Magnus, Alec wonders why he ever felt any doubt at all. The work is, as always, tough, but Alec firmly believes that they've done enough. There's no going back now, even if he wants to - which he doesn't.

One Friday afternoon, the pair find themselves fighting for space once again. Like before, Magnus innocently looks at Alec, eyes flicking to the ceiling. Alec caves in- again - and they escape back onto the roof. It's only the third time they've been up there, and he's sure that no one ever thinks to look for two idiots waltzing overhead.

It's a warm day, and Alec smiles at the sight of the city below; all colour and noise and promise.

Magnus stands beside him for a few moments, and then gestures for them to begin their training. 

They go through both of their dances twice before Magnus suddenly halts.

He turns to Alec and asks, "What are we doing for the exhibition dance?”

“Oh. That.”

Alec blinks, feeling his brow knit together as he thinks. Each winning couple returns to the floor for a brief, final dance. Although it's not supposed to be a dramatic performance, each couple usually has something prepared. No matter how likely a victory is.

It's supposed to be a small celebration, a way to relax and enjoy a dance, without needing to score high marks. It's basically a few turns about the floor. But each couple should at least have a song prepared. 

“You’re that confident?” Alec teases. He feels a smile on his face even before Magnus can reply. Despite the inquiry, Alec knows they’ve prepared two great routines. What happens on the day is all that matters now. They’ll have to face nerves and pressure again, but they’ll have each other as always, and with that, Alec feels unstoppable.

Magnus laughs, shrugging. "I'll settle for nothing less than first place, Alexander. You know this."

Pausing to look out across the city again, Alec thinks. An idea suddenly comes to mind. 

"Uh, how about we do another waltz?” he suggests. He turns to Magnus and adds, “Think of it like bringing it around full circle.”

His partner waits a beat, and then nods. "I'd like that," Magnus agrees. He heads over to the small stereo, and starts to flick through their music, talking to Alec over his shoulder as he searches. "How about something classic this time? Timeless and elegant." 

Alec can't help but grin. “Sure you're not just describing yourself?”

Magnus pauses to look back over his shoulder, eyes narrowing playfully. "I know you’re teasing, but really, you’re just flattering me, Alexander.”

"Well, I meant it. You are."

Magnus' mock-hurt expression falls, dissolving into a small, pleased smile. 

Content that he's back in his boyfriend's good books, Alec gestures with a hand. "Continue," he says. "You were saying...?"

"Ah, yes. Well, we've done all the hard work. I don't want our exhibition dance to become unbearably difficult. It should be simple. And classy."

“Of course,” Alec gravely agrees, hiding his smirk this time. It's sweet, how determined Magnus is to make their last dance for the Season count. Alec isn't too fussed. They'll have won by then. Whatever happens afterwards, he's more than happy to deal with. 

A few moments later, Magnus hovers on a song. A slow piece begins to play out, dancing across the roof. Alec's head turns towards the stereo. The guy's voice is soothing and gentle, and as soon as it begins, Alec smiles, instantly relaxed.

It's exactly the thing he was expecting to hear. It's dreamlike and peaceful, affectionate and warm. It's... _home_. Alec settles on the word when Magnus comes back over to stand with him. He studies Alec's face, searching for any signs of uncertainty.

Alec nods. "I like this one," he quietly promises. And it's the truth. The song is relaxing. Alec can imagine dancing to it in a living room, or a huge hall. Either way, it carries something magical and simple in its gentleness. In its serene rhythm and tone. 

Magnus is already taking it upon himself to test it out. He's dancing nearby, a few feet away, with his eyes shut, lips pressed together in concentration.

Alec doesn't want to interrupt, but he also does.

He clears his throat. When Magnus opens one eye to glare at him, Alec extends an arm, giving him a pointed look.

"I believe," he says, "you're supposed to dance it with me."

"So impatient," Magnus drawls out, shoulders swaying as he steps forwards. He steps into Alec's arms, and they start to dance. They don't try and choreograph in detail. They just see where the music takes them, occasionally adding some turns or pauses for added, little touches. They work in a finishing dip, but they agree to keep things simple. The adrenaline will do the rest.

As the song comes to an end, Alec carefully places a hand around Magnus' neck, getting ready to dip him. He inhales slowly, surprised to find tears in his eyes. The song starts to fade out, and Alec dips Magnus in his arms, enjoying the way his eyes never leave his. The amber flecks in his eyes are almost glowing today. Alec studies them, smiles as they dilate and gaze into his. 

The intensity of the simple, honest moment steals Alec's breath. _Magnus_ steals his breath. All of a sudden, he's catching up with everything. Alec sees the glitter dusting across the corners of Magnus' eyelids, and the simple way he trusts Alec to hold him. The colours all align, and the moment appears, almost out of nowhere. But Alec knows it's been waiting. 

And so, as he dips Magnus, Alec holds his gaze, smiles and says, "I love you."

He might rush the words out, and he's certainly trembling, but Alec knows the moment was right.

Surprise flickers across Magnus' face. It's a muted shock; gentle, hidden, and tender. He looks relieved, and overjoyed.  

Magnus quietly says, “I love you, too.”

Gulping down some air, Alec grins, and slowly pulls his partner back onto his feet. As he stands, Magnus keeps his arms around Alec, slowly pushing them up, until they’re cupping Alec's neck. In response, Alec rests his forehead against Magnus’, feeling relief, excitement and peace all at once.

When they lean in, they meet halfway. The kiss is soft and gentle. And there’s a new layer in it, nothing held back anymore.

They pull back, but stay close together, foreheads touching, and hearts aligned. 

Feeling the need to say something, Alec clears his throat. "Magnus, I...If we win, I’ll be thrilled,” he begins, “but if we don’t, it doesn’t change the fact that this Season, dancing with you, has been the best time. Thanks, uh, for walking into me on that first day."

Smiling at the memory, Magnus skims his fingers across the back of Alec's neck, toying with the small strands of hair there.

"And thank you, Alec," he says, "for meeting me in the middle."

After a brief pause, Alec does kiss him then. Because he wants to, because he can, and because he  _needs_  to. Although he surges forwards, desperate at first, the kiss soon turns from hungry to something sweeter. Strong and promising. Alec kisses him, chasing his lips one more time, before pulling back. 

Magnus slowly opens his eyes, and the amber flecks are brighter than ever before.

“I think,” Magnus says, “we’re ready to go win ourselves a trophy.”

Alec beams. “I couldn’t agree more.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw. So much love, you guys <3  
> Y'ALL READY FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIPS? (i am.)  
> You can find me on twitter @clockworkswan96, and tumblr - clockworkswans.  
> Also, there's no set song for the Rumba, but I used this for tone/mood: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3JJxS0gNkE  
> If you wanna read it alongside the scene, it should work nicely, but I kind of wanted it to be song-less, so you can use different songs.  
> But yeah....totally Dirty Dancing-inspired. *shrugs without shame*.  
> The other songs are here:  
> 1) Quickstep song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETmG97s8f54  
> 2) Viennese Waltz song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-WCC_xa2H0  
> 3) Exhibition song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_jgIezosVA  
> (there will be more details on the final dances during the actual performances!)


	5. Finals - Part 2: Two Drifters, Off to See The World.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It both saddens and excites me to reach the end. This story has been a delight to write, and I'm so happy that you guys have enjoyed the shameless fluff. Thank you for all your support and love <3  
> Tumblr: clockworkswans  
> Twitter: clockworkswan96  
> (dance visuals/inspirations can be found below:)  
> 1) Quickstep style: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdfH9sMPlgA  
> 2) Some of the demonstrations for the Viennese waltz steps here: http://www.libraryofdance.org/dances/waltz/  
> 3) Their free dance suits: https://68.media.tumblr.com/cf798b7f7bcbe71c6da8865b4a27cc8a/tumblr_inline_or8nnaxaG31rdwtt0_540.jpg  
> Free dance choreography inspirations:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DrgHLLETns  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yv2SuShIUYc  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rpd9LqD2BHs  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyOF8VfXG1U  
> Without further adieu, happy reading! :)

**(Songs used in this chapter: The Boogie Bumper - (Quickstep version), Open Arms - Vitamin String Quartet, and Moon River - Andy Williams.)**

* * *

 “One more refill?”

“Hm, very well,” Magnus hums in agreement. He winks in his boyfriend's direction. “I suppose I’m in favour of leaving early if it means I get you all to myself.”

Alec tilts his head, gesturing to the gathered group behind them. “Better leave before Jace and Ragnor get too competitive with the pool tournament," he suggests.

Magnus perks up. “There’s a tournament?" He spins on the bar chair, turning to survey the room. "Oh, Alexander, why didn’t you say something? We’d eradicate them all.”

Alec smirks. “Exactly. It’s not fair.”

Thinking this over, Magnus agrees that yes, it is probably a little unfair. And he's not feeling generous enough to give up Alec for tonight. Not even for a pool tournament. 

"I like your thinking, dear," Magnus eventually says. Alec shrugs. There's a warm flush across his cheeks tonight, and under the low lights of the bar, his sharp angles look even more prominent. And with the conversation at a pause, Magnus is left to study his gorgeous - and smirking - boyfriend, who holds his gaze as he drains off the last of his drink. 

Magnus isn’t usually the first to break away from a challenge, but it takes hold of him sometimes, that feeling of pleasant surprise, of being challenged in such an exciting yet vulnerable way. He glances away first, ignoring Alec's quiet chuckle of triumphant. 

While the bartender tops up their drinks, Magnus looks around again, smiling. 

_Hunter’s Moon_ is comfortably busy tonight. Despite it being a Wednesday, there’s a cheerful gathering unfurling inside. Music strums out from the jukebox in the corner. The pre-show drinks night is going well, at least Magnus thinks so. He's surrounded by friends and co-workers alike, who have joined them before the weekend Championships kicks off. Some dancers from _Pandemonium_ swung by – including Maia, and Lily Chen, a sharp-eyed, witty woman who Magnus is eager to catch up with too. He spoke with her earlier, and was tempted to enquire about some work business. He forced himself to save it for another day. Today is a day for easing the tension away. To try and relax before the busy weekend. 

Even Raphael manages to swing by for a drink. Magnus beams when he sees his friend, who flatteringly swaps a shift at his club to come and wish Magnus good luck. When Alec’s friends arrive soon after, the bar turns into even more of a joyful, de-stress zone.

There's only a small commotion when Ragnor begins to proclaim his support for his friend. Rather...enthusiastically. At the top of his lungs.

Fortunately, Cat drags him down from the table – because standing on it evidently means Ragnor could harass the _entire_ room. Magnus – once he eventually quit laughing - carefully informs his friend to save the drunken cheers for afterwards. The staff at _Hunter’s Moon_  are thankfully more amused than agitated.

As the evening unfolds, Magnus ends up sitting with Alec on the bar stools at the front. They soak up the last half an hour together. Their peace is only momentarily interrupted when they get called over to observe the pool tournament's final match – Maia versus Jace – to ensure there’s no cheating. Maia scores the last victory and Jace is led away by Izzy and Clary to get a drink to help nurse his bruised ego.

“Queen of _Hunter’s Moon_ ,” Isabelle says happily, when she comes back over to stand by the pool table. The small group who've gathered around to watch start to disband. She lifts her glass to toast her friend, nudging Maia with an elbow. “Got anymore secret skills?” Izzy enquires innocently. 

Magnus raises an eyebrow, having great respect for the girl's ability to shamelessly flirt right in-front of her brother. Alec doesn't say anything. He just toys with one of the pool balls, running his fingertips across it. 

Maia folds her arms across her chest, but Magnus can tell her pleased smirk is genuine.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she returns.

Oblivious to their flirting - or likely deciding to ignore it - Alec huffs out a laugh.

"I can’t believe you knocked my brother down a peg,” he jokes, setting his glass down on a nearby, empty table before turning back to face the other girl. His lips then twist into a grimace. “I’d say thanks, but uh, now I’ll have to put up with his lame excuses for at least a month.”

The group shares a laugh, and Magnus slowly finishes off his own glass, occasionally chiming in as the others discuss the game. The evening is coming to a end, the music quieter and the group slipping away, one by one making their goodbyes. 

After a few moments, Maia raises a brow and asks, “Oh, yeah, I was meaning to ask. You’re brothers? You and Jace? You sure don’t look alike.” She doesn’t say it rudely. Perhaps a bit abrupt, but Magnus knows she’s got a good heart, and Alec seems to see this.

He just shrugs in agreement and explains, “Adopted.” Alec’s expression softens as he smiles. “But related in every way that counts,” he adds, after a beat. Across from the table, Isabelle nods, her own smile turning fond. 

At that, Maia smiles. “Gotcha,” she says, nodding.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Isabelle begins, pointing between the three of them, “how is it possible that such a good looking family can be equally talented and beautiful? I know. It’s a lot to take in.”

Magnus snorts. “They’re humble too,” he affirms dryly.

His remark is met with a series of laughs or glares. Maia grins in his direction and he drops her a friendly wink. Magnus makes a mental note to organise another Salsa night with her. It’s been a while since they had a night out together, and he misses seeing Maia around. But with the International Ballroom Season over soon, Magnus knows he might be heading back to _Pandemonium_ for the Latin Fall Season. He’ll see Maia a lot then. And Lily. But there are lots of competitions between then and now. There’s plenty of time to sort it out-

“Oh, god.”

At the sudden exclamation, Magnus tunes back in to see Maia grimacing, staring at a spot over his shoulder, in the direction of the bar. He half turns, laughing when he sees the cause of her reaction. An insistent Jace is encouraging Simon to participate in tequila shots. And Clary is with them, and letting them, already holding out her phone to record what happens. 

"Who let those three hang out together?" Maia says, laughing despite her groan. "Seriously? They cannot be trusted.” She glances over to Izzy. "We should probably go and talk them out of it, yeah? I mean, I kinda want to see what happens..."

"I like how you think," Isabelle says impishly, nodding her head. "Let's go. See you guys tomorrow?" she asks, turning to look across at Magnus and her brother. When they offer her smiles of agreement, she leaves with Maia, joining the small group by the bar, who are now watching the tequila drama unfold.

Having gone passed the 'wake up passed out' phase, Magnus just shakes his head, grinning. "Well, they'll certainly learn soon." He lifts his chin, smiling up at his boyfriend. "Time to go?" he enquires. "It's our last training day tomorrow. We need to rest, hm?"

Alec hums in agreement, already shrugging on his jacket. “Right. Yeah." He gestures to the door. "Your place? Mine?”

Ignoring the little jump his heart gives - will he ever get over Alec saying things like this so casually? - Magnus tilts his head to the side.

"So eager," he teases, voice dipping lower. When Alec simply squints an eye, waiting for an answer, Magnus thinks for a moment before replying, “Hm, alright, my place it is. I’m not in the mood for your siblings stumbling in at three in the morning.”

“You sound so old,” Alec jokes, reaching out with an arm.

Before he can wrap it around Magnus' waist, he steps back, giving him a flat look.

"And you were doing so well before that comment, Alexander," Magnus tuts. "Alas, no more kisses for you tonight."

"W-what?"

Alec’s face falls so quickly that Magnus can’t hold in a laugh. He tries to suppress it and fails. He takes pity on the poor guy and loops his arms around Alec’s waist, tugging him forwards. Alec stumbles closer, blinking at the sudden closeness. 

Magnus drinks him in for a second or two, and then sighs in mock-surrender.

"As if I could resist you,” he admits.

Tongue darting out to wet his lip, Alec sighs. “Good,” he mumbles. "You scared me for a sec." He licks his lips again and then dips down, kissing Magnus only once, but drawing it out, lips pressing slowly and firmly against Magnus’. It’s the kind of kiss that has Magnus forgetting where he is, or why he was pretending to be mad.

When he pulls back, Alec glances around. A sheepish look appears on his face, and then grins, like he’d forgotten that there’s a lot of people here.

"Come on," Magnus invites, tugging him by the hand. 

They make a brief round of goodbyes, and head out of the bar with Catarina and Ragnor, who have early meetings at work. The pair are preparing for the crazy amount of interviews and articles they’ll have to write up over the weekend. Magnus hugs his friends tightly, and then he and Alec climb into the car, leaving behind the lights and laughter of the bar.

The drive home is short and relaxed. But of course, the gods decide to shake this up. As they approach the loft, the skies turn gray, and rain begins to trickle down. In the span of about fifteen minutes, the weather shifts.

Magnus sighs as they sit in the car for a minute, praying the rain away. “And I, alas, have no emergency umbrella,” he apologises with a grimace. “We’ll have to make a dash for it.”

It’s late June but apparently late evening showers are still a thing.

Alec is silent, but Magnus doesn’t think he’s worried. He’s just…quiet; staring out of the window with a look of contemplation, and a hint of a small smile.

“Alexander?”

Shifting in his seat to face him, Magnus finds a calm, enamoured look on his boyfriend's face. The sight of it, the tenderness, has Magnus a little taken aback. In the best way possible. 

"I was just thinking. Uh, remembering." Alec lifts a hand, pointing outside. The gesture is hesitant, but then he turns back and bridges the gap, reaching out to touch Magnus’ cheek as he smiles. “I should’ve kissed you then," Alec says quietly. "In the rain, I mean. I wanted to. Why didn’t I?”

Leaning into the touch, Magnus returns the smile with ease. He shrugs. “Perhaps it wasn’t the right time,” he answers, truthfully. “For either of us. Falling for you was easy, Alec, but I’m equally glad, and always will be, to have your friendship as well. Rushing into this was always a fear of mine.”

“Me too,” Alec says. The gleam in his eye turns playful then. “But,” he begins, resting his hand against the door handle, “I’d like to amend that now.”

Magnus gapes at him for a moment, can't believe that his incredibly professional and stubborn boyfriend is suggesting something so mundane. 

"If you catch a cold before the Championships, your mother will murder me."

"I won't," Alec retorts. He sounds so adamant and sure. Magnus can't argue for very much longer.

"Damn you and your irresistible-"

Magnus gets cut off by the sound of a door slamming. He gapes again, watching Alec - who's now outside - rush around to the other door. 

_You're truly something else, Alexander._

A smile and few seconds later, and Magnus joins his crazy, rain-damp boyfriend outside, soaking up more than the rain as they kiss. He knows it's a brief moment, so Magnus throws himself into it. It’s like feeling like a kid again, toes dipping into small puddles by the curb as they kiss on the pavement. He presses soft kisses against his boyfriend's lips; gentle at first, and then firmer, hand cupping either side of Alec's neck. 

The rain is light, placing equally gentle kisses to their skin. The earthy scent of falling rain lingers too, and Magnus inhales slowly, pressing closer into Alec’s arms.

But as it turns out, there’s a limitation on magic – and good timing – because a minute later, the rain starts to fall harder and heavier. And because neither of them want to wind up with pneumonia, they exchange a quick look, nodding at the same time. 

"You win," Alec mumbles. He reluctantly sighs, keeping his arms around Magnus’ waist. He tugs him closer to the loft and out of the rain, laughing as they fumble into the building and head up the stairs. Magnus is ready with the key, slipping it easily into the lock and opening the door. Alec heads into the loft space, and Magnus shakes his head, water droplets slipping down his face. 

The familiar, comforting feeling of home warms his shivering skin. Magnus closes the door and simply watches Alec for a few moments. The other guy smiles to himself, cheeks a flushed red. 

It's all just... _perfect_. Magnus can't bring himself to move, to ruin it. 

There’s a damp warmth around Magnus, both from the rain and the warm, content feeling that soaks into his already-heightened energy. Magnus holds onto it as they hastily start to strip off their soaked layers. Thankfully, their coats have taken the most of the rain, but Magnus still stares, lips slightly parted, as he takes in the sight of Alec standing there; hair tousled, wet strands falling into his bright eyes, leg bouncing slightly as he laughs to himself. He’s half in a daze, and Magnus watches, unable to fight back a grin. He watches as Alec hangs his coat up on one of the nearby pegs and starts to kick off his shoes, placing his bag on the floor and-

“Move in with me.”

“W-what?”

Alec's eyes widen, stopping dead in his tracks. He stares across, lips parting in surprise.

Magnus is also somewhat shocked by his own words. He mulls it over for a few seconds. But with Alec standing before him, Magnus has the sudden realisation that this has been on his mind for a while now. He's come to associate the loft with Alec without even realising it. It's home for lots of reasons now.

When Alec's dazed expression doesn't clear up, Magnus steps forwards. He wrings his hands together anxiously.

“Only if you’d like, Alexander. Move into the loft. It doesn’t have to be immediately, of course, I understand that you may wish to discuss this with your siblings, or think it over. But I’d like for this to be more than a stopping place for you. For us," he continues, almost rambling - and damn it, Magnus Bane does _not_ ramble. Why is he still talking?

"Besides, the cats are rather melodramatic whenever you’re not around,” he adds, blinking under Alec’s unwavering gaze.

_Say something. Please._

But Alec’s silence is far from underwhelming. It’s surprised, yes, but his stance is relaxed as he slowly runs his eyes around the loft. Magnus smiles, sensing his similar realisation. Because a few moments ago, Magnus did the same. He just...sees Alec there, making himself at home, and realises, what’s stopping them? What’s stopping Magnus from extending his heart even more? He wants to, and as Alec slowly steps towards him, Magnus believes that he’s meeting him halfway, as usual.

“Happy five month anniversary, Magnus.”

“Hm?”

It's Magnus' turn to feel bewildered then. He cocks his head, unsure where this is going. 

Alec takes one of his hands in his, thumb brushing across his knuckles as he speaks. “It’s been five months since we, uh, made it official," he quietly reveals. "Almost half a year since we met. That’s…That’s a yes, by the way," he quickly says. He laughs, a bashful smile flickering across his features. "I was just, yeah…It reminded me of that.”

Magnus lets his smile widen. The worried knot in his chest unwinds. “Is that so?” he asks. It’s not, however, a confirmation. He already knew this, but the reminder makes him swallow, enamoured by how fortune he is to have this kind of love.

Staring down at their entwined hands, Magnus swallows.

When he's ready, he asks, "You’ll move in with me?” Affection softens every word.

Alec doesn't hesitate, nodding. He brings his hands up to cup either side of Magnus' face.

"Yes. Of course. _Yes."_

Magnus beams, happiness overpowering every other thought. He reaches out and curls his fingers in Alec's damp shirt. He gives one, firm tug. Alec stumbles forwards and they crash together in their usual way; balanced yet longing for more. And _god_ does Alec give. Magnus doesn’t think there’s another person in the world who commits like Alec does. He’s tentative when it comes to certain things, but dedicated entirely when he fights for it. When he pushes past the boundaries he’s struggled to overcome, Alec is unstoppable.

Magnus kisses out a thousand thoughts and gratitude into Alec’s lips. He grips him tightly, pausing only to kick off his own shoes, and discard the keys onto the kitchen bar. He kisses him harder, craving more. His nails scrape against Alec's neck, digging in. 

“I–“ Alec exhales, breath hot against Magnus’ lips– “love you.” His chest pushes out, pressing into Magnus'. Even underneath the shirt, Magnus can feel the hard planes of muscles. 

Although desire still ripples across his every nerve, Magnus pauses for breath. He smiles, never tiring of hearing those words. He dips his head, briefly resting his forehead on Alec's chest. The strong heartbeat below his shirt is all at once enchanting and anchoring; the most beautiful, grounded kind of magic.

“I love you, too,” he says quietly, smile widening when he feels Alec sighs in response. His quiet laugh whisks around the room, filling up the space with happiness.

After a few moments, Magnus pulls back, resting his hands gently on either side of Alec’s hips as he gazes up at him. Standing this close, Magnus can see the strong bridge of Alec’s nose, his full, damp lips and wet, tangled hair. He’s beautiful under the warm, loft lighting.

Magnus lets himself lean in for one more kiss, taking his time. He emits small noises as he trails across Alec’s jaw and mouth.

“Do you, uh–“ Alec’s words come out breathless– “want anything?” he asks, tilting his neck to the side, allowing Magnus easier access. “To, uh, drink…?”

“Indeed," Magnus purrs out, sucking at the pulse point below Alec's ear.

“Coffee? Wine? Um…”

“Look at you,” Magnus hums out fondly, “already acting like you’ve moved in." Before Alec can retort, Magnus presses the pad of his thumb against his boyfriend's mouth. "You’re charming, dear, but really, do shut up.”

“Yes, sir.”

And before Alec can tease some more – and Magnus knows, given the chance, he’ll definitely try– Magnus takes matters into his own hands. He gives Alec all of two seconds to get wind of what he’s doing and then snakes his arms around Alec's neck. Heartbeat in his throat, Magnus pushes up onto the balls of his feet. Alec stutters out a breath, readying himself. His hands grip Magnus' waist tightly. Smirking, Magnus jumps up, locking his legs around Alec’s waist and balancing his weight carefully.

“Where to?” Alec asks, mumbling it out between kisses. His hands start to roam, curving over Magnus’ spine; pressing the damp fabric of his shirt into his skin. He’s starting to shiver, but it’s certainly not from the cold anymore.

“Back, back, back,” Magnus directs him, hands now flat against his chest. He lets himself be carried into the bedroom. When Alec’s legs hit the bed, he sits down, and Magnus climbs into his lap.

They kiss, taking it slow as they undress. He makes quick work of Alec’s shirt, unbuttoning in a haste and throwing the pathetic excuse for warmth across the room. His carpet will be damp tomorrow, but Magnus doesn’t care. He lets Alec return the favour and then wastes no more time; placing his hands on Alec’s pecs and pressing him into the sheets, chuckling when Alec grunts in surprise. When they're down to their underwear, their lips start to press more closely, kisses turning desperate.

Magnus threads his fingers through Alec’s damp hair, tugging carefully and electing soft groans from his boyfriend’s lips. The sounds Alec makes, low and wrecked, threaten to turn Magnus into a shivery mess. He shoves his boyfriend flat down into the bed, knees on either side of Alec’s hips. 

It’s one of those content enchantments, a night of soft, electrical kisses, not violent sparks and bursts of heat. So Magnus lets the kisses turn gentler, but he does keep Alec pinned down, allowing only his hands to roam across Magnus' bare back, tracing his spine with long fingers.

“What a nice, easy night,” Magnus purrs, nibbling along Alec’s collar bone. There’s no layers between them now, and Alec’s hair is barely wet anymore.

“Mm, yeah,” Alec mumbles in agreement, voice hoarse. He tries to widen the gap, to push his legs open and let Magnus fall into the space, but Magnus shakes his head, refusing to let him move. He laughs when Alec groans, mumbling something incoherent as Magnus continues to press deep, slow kisses into the hollow of his throat.

Letting out a quiet laugh, Magnus pulls back to look at him, locking his thighs against Alec’s hips, holding him in place. He’s eager, and Magnus can feel him trembling, the force of _want_ ready to spill out of his tense body.

Magnus keeps him pinned for another second, trying – and failing – to conceal his grin.

“I’d say down boy, but-“ he pauses, eyeing up Alec’s length – “I think we’re past that already, hm?”

“Yeah, well, what are you gonna do about it?” Alec asks, pecking at Magnus’ lips between words. Magnus sighs, and finally lets Alec’s legs push apart, repositioning himself so that he’s balancing over him on his elbows instead.

While Alec shuffles back on the bed, stretching out, Magnus takes the opportunity to lean over and reach for the bedside table, holding Alec’s gaze as he makes his fingers slick and ready. He leaves the tube nearby, and the condom wrapper, for later, and then returns to a waiting, lazily grinning Alec.

“Mm, have I told you recently that you’re beautiful, Alexander?” Magnus murmurs.

“So are you,” Alec says; simply, honest and without hesitation.

Smiling at that, Magnus skims his fingers up Alec’s chest, walking them up one by one. Soft hair and firm muscle are all Magnus can feel, and he gets lost in the sensations, in the heat and the drag of his fingers. He then reaches down, coaxing Alec’s thighs back open, dipping his head to kiss him all the while. Hand curving around Alec’s ass, he kneads him for a bit, and then decides that Alec has had enough teasing. He’s tentative at first, sliding in a finger, and then two; eyes following every movement Alec makes as he slowly pushes inside. He curls his finger a little, smirking as Alec’s back arches, as if to urge him to _hurry up already._

Alec opens his mouth but only a stuttering groan comes out. When he tries again, Magnus nods, letting out a quiet sound of amusement, but also frustration too. He might’ve had the upper hand before, but now that moans are spilling from Alec’s lips, Magnus doesn’t think he can be patient anymore.

“Are you ready for me?” Magnus asks, taking Alec’s earlobe between his teeth. He tugs slowly, still working two fingers in and out. He suddenly lets out a gasp when Alec’s hand grips his length, stroking Magnus firmly.

“Cheating,” Magnus mumbles, and Alec’s answering smirk just makes it all the more unbearable. He sits up, already missing the heat of Alec’s chest, and lips travelling against his. Magnus reaches over for the condom wrapper, shivering slightly when Alec starts to trace circles over Magnus’ hips.

There’s something satisfying in the way Alec touches him. Something beautiful about the in-between; spaces reserved for shared smiles and exploring touches.

“One day, I won’t take pity on you, or your pretty face,” Magnus says, feigning disappointment. “’ll stand my ground. I’ll make you _wait_.” He looks down at Alec, studies the gorgeous guy on his back, gazing up at him with dilated pupils and a one-cornered smirk. He’s glorious like this, Magnus thinks, all at once confident and tentative; trusting Magnus completely yet unafraid to push back, to demand closeness.

“Alexander?”

“Please,” Alec mutters, “this is not a time to show off your damn stamina.” Emphasising his point, Alec digs his nails into Magnus’ back. _Hard_.

The sudden sensation of nail against his skin awakens every nerve in Magnus’ body.

Magnus rolls his hips forwards, slowly at first, groaning as Alec stretches comfortably around his cock. It’s hell to keep his strokes slow, but Magnus does. Somehow. Alec bites his lip, and Magnus’ eyes lock firmly onto the sight, and then it’s too much. He abandons whatever careful rhythm he’s held onto and moans, diving forwards and closing his lips around Alec’s chest. He takes one nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly as he continues to thrust, pace getting erratic as he feels his climax start to build.

Alec’s breath is hot against Magnus’ cheeks, and he grips the back of his boyfriend’s neck, nails anchoring Magnus to him.

“Need you,” Alec mumbles, voice hoarse. “More. _Magnus_ , please.” He locks his legs around Magnus’ waist, heels pressing into his ass, and urges him to press closer, lips making slow, hard kisses against his jaw.

A shudder goes through Magnus’ body, like it’s the final straw, and he groans, rolling his hips again. They both tip over the edge almost at the same time, and Magnus makes sure to hold Alec’s gaze, wanting nothing more than to see it, as well as feel it; the moment where Alec is completely _his_ , completely present.

Magnus has felt desire - and dedication - before, but this devotion is new. It carries a magic of its own; fulfilling every inch of him.

The high lasts for a short while. Alec’s legs stay locked around his waist, and then they relax, and slowly come back to rest on the bed. Magnus coaxes slow kisses out of him, giving them both a chance to regain their breath.

~

They spend a lazy ten minutes slowing down and kissing as they clean up.

Heading back from the bathroom, Alec collapses back onto the bed, shuffling closer. He ends up with his head resting on Magnus’ bare chest, running a finger down his ribs and then back up again. The sheets are pulled mid-way up, but the night is warm, a pleasant drowsiness in the air.

“Now, _that_ , dear,” Magnus begins, gently threading his fingers through Alec’s hair, “was an excellent way to celebrate our move-in decision.”

Alec rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Agreed,” he huffs out, laughing into his boyfriend’s chest. “And a good way to, you know, let off steam. Before the weekend, mm?” He’s still lost in the haze; ghosting touches still flickering across his memory. He aches in the best way possible, tired yet so, so awake. 

“Ah, yes, that small competition,” Magnus comments dryly. He sighs. Alec doesn’t need to glance up to sense that there’s a small frown flickering across Magnus' face now.

“I suppose it’s still all fun and games afterwards,” Magnus continues. There’s a bit of tension in his voice now. “If, by that, you mean more competitions and working out the future.”

Alec spends a few seconds gathering up his nerve.

When he’s ready, he pushes up onto an elbow, now looking down at Magnus.

_Okay. Here goes. You can do this, Lightwood._

Besides, they’ve just agreed to move in together, Alec reminds himself. It’s not that their future is uncertain. It's just that Alec knows there’s many things to clarity, to work through professionally. Lots of ‘what ifs’ and ‘what abouts’.

“So–“ Alec clears his throat and finishes– “you…You’re good with discussing this now, yeah? It can wait. I’m not going anywhere. Obviously,” he quickly adds. Alec focuses on holding Magnus’ gaze, steadying the slight rising panic in his chest.

He doesn’t fear the topic, of what comes next. But he also senses that the timing needs to be right. Is doing this right before the Championships the best move?

_Yeah, because stressing over it is better_ , he scolds himself.

He relaxes as soon as Magnus smiles, giving a brief nod. “Yes,” he assures him, taking a second to reposition himself so that he’s mirroring Alec’s pose; an elbow propped up, a comfortable distance between them.

“Okay. Do you want to return to Latin?”

_Damn it._

Should he have been more…delicate? But Alec doesn’t care for beating around the bush. He also knows that Magnus isn’t looking for someone who covers up. It’ll be in the open, or not at all. They both deserve open communication. 

He waits.

Magnus’ smile only widens. He licks his lips, tongue slowly darting out to wet them as he deliberates. He doesn’t flinch at Alec’s briskness. He seems to appreciate it; eyes flickering across Alec’s face.

Eventually, Magnus replies. “I miss it,” he admits. “I miss the freedom that the different styles bring. I left partially because of Camille, yes. I feared that she’d tainted the joy of it all, but I think I’m ready to return. Stronger.”

Warm pride washes over Alec then. He smiles, taking a moment to appreciate just how incredibly talented and strong-willed the guy he’s fallen in love with truly is. Magnus never fails to amaze him.

“However, having said that,” Magnus continues, absently running a finger across the pillow, “through our time together, I’ve rediscovered a love for Ballroom. One that I didn’t have before, or…did not appreciate, perhaps. It’s grown on me, a great deal.”

Alec doesn’t push him. He listens, giving Magnus the time and space to think it through.

“It will be challenging, but I’m contemplating competing in both,” Magnus says, at last. “I’d like to test myself, and I also owe it to myself to stop putting limitations on my abilities. Competing in both gives me a chance to do just that. I'd like to try, at least."

He glances up, nodding slowly, and then the gleam in his eyes grows brighter, stronger. He starts to smile again, only this time, it’s one that doesn’t hold back. Alec is relieved to see Magnus’ own pride blossoming without reserve. He's delighted. 

But before Alec can say something, Magnus gets in first.

“Alec, would you…Would you still like to partner me?" he asks, voice quiet.

Every quiet hope, and unspoken question, comes rushing to the surface. Alec feels his throat constrict, the relief overwhelming him.

Magnus continues on, unaware. "Even if we win, will you continue to dance with me? I respect that it’s not that easy." A hesitant look crosses his features. "There are the Winter Nationals, and then the occasional showcase performances, and I understand that you have a reputation to uphold, and family to please-“

“Stop,” Alec blurts out. “Please. Magnus, j…just stop.” He shakes his head. Surprised to find his eyes stinging, Alec lifts a hand, blinking away the sudden tears. He’s smiling though, and thankfully Magnus doesn’t get the wrong idea.

“Alexander…"

A hand lifts up, brushing across Alec’s cheek, tracing the bone tentatively. His boyfriend’s touch is so gentle. Alec leans into it, laughing a bit awkwardly. He just lets the emotions spill out, unafraid to show how damn happy he is. When he opens his eyes, he finds Magnus studying him; eyes shining too, and slightly wide.

“Magnus, of course. Yes,” Alec says, realising he didn't actually say it out loud. “I want to dance with you for as long as I can."

Magnus beams, lips twitching at Alec’s enthusiasm. “And of course, we’ll return to teaching, I presume?” he asks. “I’ve got commitments I intend to maintain, as do you, but–“ Magnus pauses to flash him a quick wink– “I’m quite keen to partner you until we both grow old and gray and immobile.” He turns again so that he’s leaning against his side, elbow propped back up on the pillow as he studies Alec.

Leaning forwards, Alec returns the look, eyes tracing across his boyfriend’s face.

After a few seconds he says, “You’d still look beautiful with gray hair.” The gruffness in Alec’s sleepy voice softens as he feels a smile tug at his lips. He reached out and pushes some of Magnus’ hair aside, rubbing the fringe strands gently between his fingers.

Magnus makes a small, pleased noise. “You’re staying all that while?” he asks. “I’m a lot to get used to.”

Alec hesitates. He swallows, pausing to take it those words. Although it’s teasing, Alec knows that there’s still scars that Magnus bears, and will likely feel the weight of, always.

“I’ve always felt that…When I found someone, it’d be for life. So, yeah. You can't get rid of me."

As he speaks, Alec turns, now flat on his back. He glances up at a bump in the ceiling, instead of watching for Magnus’ reaction. It’ll allow Magnus the time to think it all over, to not feel like Alec is waiting for a reply.

Quiet, but sure, Alec realises how strange it is, to be the confident one for once; to surprise and excite, to give someone like Magnus new feelings. It’s one of the reasons he’s so sure about them, about their future. The balance they find in each other is unique. Alec might not be a love expert, but letting go of this, ever, would be the worst mistake of either of their lives.

It's a few minutes later that Magnus speaks again.

“Alexander, look at me. Please.”

Alec does.

Instead of speaking anymore, Magnus curls a hand around Alec's neck; strokes his fingers across the skin. He leans in and kisses him, deeply.

_Oh._

The urgency surprises Alec, but he returns it, dissolving into the fervour way Magnus presses into him. His mouth coaxes Alec's lips open, tilting his head and lingering amidst the kiss. The urgency turns to sweetness a few moments later. Magnus' hand unwind from Alec's hair, coming down to settle over his chest. 

They settle down together, folded in sheets and a peaceful calm. 

“Whatever you choose, I'll be by your side," Alec tells his boyfriend. "If you wanna do both, that's cool. I'll support you however I can." His smile turns lazy, almost hazy with happiness. "As long as I get to come home to you.”

Magnus hums, the sound content and fulfilled. "You will. That I can promise you, Alec,” he says softly. “I’ll give you a key whenever you’d like, and you can move in, bit by bit, or all at once. However you choose.”

"Mm. Any partner ideas? For Latin?"

Magnus taps a nail against Alec's collar bone. "Do you remember Lily?" he asks. "From the bar?” When Alec nods, he continues. “She and I have danced together before. She’s a firecracker, and we’ve no qualms with pushing each other.”

“Good. I’m glad,” Alec says, and it’s the truth. He's seen Magnus dance Latin, and knows it's a different kind of fierce. It needs an equally strong partnership. If Magnus trusts this Lily, then so does Alec. 

“I was gonna suggest Izzy but yeah, she’s teaming up with Maia probably.”

“Indeed," Magnus grumbles. "The traitor.”

"You _did_ introduce them-"

"Shush, you," Magnus cuts in, but he's chuckling, lips moving slightly against Alec's shoulder. He's comfortably balanced half against Alec's chest, and half on his side. Their legs tangle together, warm and perfectly content. 

Alec doesn't push his luck. His lids start to flutter, ready to surrender to sleep. As he drifts off, with Magnus' head against his chest, Alec wonders if he'll even dream. Reality is all he needs. Reality is having a guy who loves and pushes you, and a partner who gives you strength as well as vulnerability. 

It’s real, and Alec isn’t waiting for it to begin anymore. It’s already here, happening right now.

“I love you,” he murmurs, already half-asleep. He presses a lazy kiss into Magnus' hair.

“Love you too, darling.”

~

Thursday goes by in a blur.

The day before the Championships begins is always chaos. Magnus knows it’s best to throw yourself into it, to help out whenever you can. Best not to linger on your own anxieties, or drown in other people’s concerns either. It’s an art of its own; working out how to manage yourself before the big event.

All the while, Magnus feels like he’s constantly smiling. Always a memory slipping into his thoughts. His and Alec’s conversation in bed, or the dozens of simple coffee dates, or the look on Alec’s face when he agreed to move into the loft. Having loved a number of men and women before, Magnus knows that each person’s love is different. Each person gives in a slightly different way; memories coloured in a different vibrancy or tone or shade.

With Alec, it’s a thousand colours in one. It’s never a haze either. There’s a clarity to their time together, always something that Magnus begins to learn, or teach. He has a feeling that he’ll spend years and years with this guy, with someone who has redefined Magnus’ definition of home.

_‘As long as I get to come home to you.’_

Magnus repeats Alec’s words from the night before, as though swirling it in a wine glass, taking it in, bit by bit. It’s such a simple thing to say. Yet Magnus can’t stop thinking about it.

For years, he firmly believed that he would never quite close an unknown distance between himself and his lovers. There was always an expiration date. Always a goodbye waiting. And perhaps that was a good thing. If every choice led him here, to this kind of full happiness with Alec, then it was worth it. It always will be.

“You’re daydream-y today,” a voice suddenly jars Magnus from his thoughts. He glances up and finds Isabelle watching him with a shameless grin, chin held in her hands as she leans across the table.

“Did you see the future and see our double victories?” she asks. “That’d be really helpful right about now.” They're the only ones in the lounge area of the School. Everyone else is off at last minute rehearsals or trying to keep their cool. 

Magnus shakes his head. “Apologies, my dear. I was quite lost in thought.”

“I saw that." Isabelle's tone is dry as she surveys him. "Come on then. Tell me. What surprisingly romantic thing did my brother do this time then?”

Laughing, Magnus doesn't try and bite back an argument. He leans against the table, slowly arching an eyebrow. “That’s between Alexander and myself. You’re charming, Isabelle, but you won’t win this time," he warns her. He fiddles with one of his necklaces and finishes, "Just know that a particular someone made my handsome self very happy by agreeing to move in with me…”

“Oh, that. I already know."

Magnus lifts his head, sharply. He gapes at her.

“Don’t give me that look," Isabelle says, giggling. "Alec texted me that this morning. Like...right at soon as he left your place."

_Of course he did._

"Ah. I see."

But Magnus isn't mad. Not at all. In fact, quite the opposite. If Alec is already texting his siblings, then surely there's no hesitation. He really does want to take this next step.

“Sorry,” Izzy apologies, when she's done giggling, “I am really happy for you, I just wanted to hear you tell me." She pats his hand, and Magnus pauses to admire the dark blue polish shimmering across Isabelle's nails. "Double victory,” she teases.

“You’re a devil in disguise, you are,” Magnus mutters, lifting a finger to point.

She beams. “Do you really think so?”

Helplessly surrendering, Magnus sighs, finally letting his smile come back. “Yes,” he says, amusement evident in his tone now, “you’re a wonder, Isabelle."

He gestures then to the handful of cardboard boxes waiting by the couch. "Are these the last of the boxes heading out?”

“Yep.”

"Then let's get this done. I'll treat your gleeful self to a coffee afterwards."

"Sold," Izzy declares, already pushing back her chair and heading for the boxes.

They’ve been helping out with some last-minute costume alteration shipments, loading them into teachers’ cars, ready to head out to the competition venue as soon as possible. All the usual helpers are already there, preparing for the busiest, international Ballroom event of the Season.

As they slip into the car park, Izzy balances the box on her knee carefully. She faces him, no smugness in her smile, just gratitude. 

“I’m so happy. For both of you,” Isabelle says.  

Magnus has no difficulty in accepting the sincerity. He inclines his head. “Thank you,” he says graciously. “And if I don’t see you later, best of luck with your first dance.”

“You too,” she returns.

~

And just like that, Friday arrives.

The Championships is a two-day event. The first dances are performed during Friday afternoon and evening. The second dances taking place on the Saturday. Results are added up and confirmed – alongside with the usual added audience choices’ points – and the announcements are made as soon as possible, after the last couple has performed. It often takes a quarter of an hour, as there are rarely huge changes.

The audience can offer a maximum of ten points to one couple, which has sometimes been known to switch the final three results around.

Early Friday morning, Magnus steps onto the coach. The bus is filled with fellow dancers, friends and competition alike. Some are in their own zones, and others chat. Magnus breathes in the excitement, and the nerves. There’s glitter and shoe polish and anxious smiles everywhere. The roar of the engine vibrates the floor, and Magnus loves this energy, lives for the aliveness of it all.

Familiar faces pop up. Lydia and Raj sit together, still discussing their routine by the looks of it. But they both pause to offer the pair a brief smile, and Magnus returns it happily.

A few seats ahead, Clary and Simon sit in the same row as Jace and Isabelle. It’s nearby that Magnus finds a spare seat. He sinks into a window seat, settling his bag overhead, and smiles as Alec collapses into the one beside him. They’ve barely sat down when two heads poke up from the row in front.

“Hey, there,” Clary says with a bright smile. Her hair is piled into a messy bun. There’s already- somehow – a faint white stripe of paint across her forehead. She and Simon are returning to help with backstage work. Clary’s help with all the sets and stage props has also granted her a backstage pass, which means she’s often hanging around the School.

Magnus grins at her. “Hey, biscuit. Your work ends, and ours begins, hm?”

She shrugs. “We're still required to come along. There’s often emergency, last-minute set changes. Someone freaks out and wants it changed completely.”

“Those fiends,” Magnus says sadly, shaking his head solemnly. Clary narrows her eyes at him but laughs anyway, in a good enough mood to let his tease slide.

A few minutes later, as Maryse, Robert and Victor do a head count, Magnus plucks his phone from his jacket. He's kept it on silent, and apparently he's missed quite a few texts. 

He smiles as he scrolls through the messages. Even though he had a brief Skype talk with them this same morning, his friends still make the effort to reaffirm their love and support. He flicks through them:

**Catarina:** _Good luck, my fabulous, amazing friend! If I don’t see you beforehand, know that we’re 100% behind you and believe in you more than your cute partner. Okay, maybe equally. But still. We loved you first. Remember that._

**Ragnor:** _I made a bet with a friend to forgo tea for an entire week if you didn’t win. That’s how hard I believe in you. Don’t let England down, you beautiful bugger._

Magnus almost cries at that one.

He gets himself in check and reads the last one:

**Raphael:** _I hope this weekend goes well. If I can't get time off, I wish you all the best. You’ll be in my thoughts, and as I said before, there’s a free drink waiting for you afterwards, whatever happens. Buena suerte, friend._

Bathing in the warm glow of his friends' love, Magnus starts to reply, one by one. He keeps the messages short but sweet, and then tucks his phone back into his pocket, turning to see Alec studying him.

“Mm?”

“You ready for this?” Alec asks quietly. His hand reaches for Magnus’, and he squeezes once, still watching him.

Magnus nods. “Oh, indeed,” he says. “Let’s kick some self-important people's asses."

~

_Greenlake Tower Ballroom_ is gorgeous.

The huge building is an elegant, light gray structure, plants lining the entrance. It’s a large complex of hotels, pools and the famous ballroom; the venue always used for the International Ballroom Championships.

Inside, dancers from all over the world come to stay for one weekend of intense, zealous dancing. The competition is fierce, and the victories often surprising. Each year is an inspirational place to be, for young and old dancers alike. It’s a chance to be the best of the best, to come back fighting. Or to remember why you were fighting in the first place.

As they head into the main foyer, gold and red carpets, chairs and chandeliers greet the arriving Schools. There are dozens of groups already here, checking into their rooms or meeting up with old friends from other Schools. The place is already packed, and Magnus beams, eyeing up the delicious madness of it all.

“The Bronze and Under 21s start in an hour,” Alec says, coming to stand beside him. He wears a small smile, but there’s already tension in his forehead. “We’re scheduled for late afternoon, with the rest of the Gold rank.”

“Then let’s sign into our room,” Magnus suggests, “and then we can leave our costumes in the lockers and keep ourselves busy in the meantime." He senses that they'll both need to dive into distractions instead of overthinking everything. Magnus also trusts that if something is really bugging him, Alec will say.

Alec nods. “Yeah. Sounds good. Iz-“

“Big brother, I’m fine,” Isabelle chimes in, suddenly appearing between the pair, resting an elbow on either of their shoulders. She gives them both a cheerful smile. “Go and sign into your room. I’m heading into the second backstage room to claim a peg for my dress, and then I’ll go and join the School’s area. There’ll be lots of little ones needing our wisdom,” she says solemnly, but her eyes are shining with excitement.

It’s also true, what she says. With plenty of time to go until their dances, Magnus gets ready for tears, tantrums and victories alike in the morning session. When he danced Latin, there were always last minute freak outs; one kid refusing to dance, or another tumbling over on the dancefloor.

But at least they'll be kept occupied until it's their turn.

“Very well,” Magnus agrees. He links his arm through Alec’s, tugging him towards the reception area. They give their names to a uniformed staff member with a short, cute pixie cut bob. She checks them into the book before handing over a key. She waves them politely away, trying to get ahead with the massive queue of people behind them.

Before they head upstairs, Magnus glances about, eventually spotting the group he came with. _The Clave’s School of Ballroom Dancing –_ teachers and dancers alike – are heading into the main ballroom, disappearing down the huge foyer. Inside the ballroom, the huge space opens up a large dancefloor and surrounding, circling chairs for the audiences. There is a raised platform towards the front of the stage, for the orchestra, and two winding staircases on either side of it, leading up into the wings; where all the dancers rush to get ready.

Unlike with the other venues, the backstage wings here are divided into four rooms of changing rooms and waiting areas. There's plenty of room for everyone.

Back in the audience, there are sections reserved for Schools to sit together. It’s here – no doubt – that Magnus watches the group disappear towards. He sees Maryse walking briskly, leading the group with a tense expression. Robert brings up the rear with Victor Aldertree, the principal.

“Hey.”

Magnus turns, lifting his gaze to see Alec smiling down at him.

“Mm?”

Alec’s grip on his arm tightens, just a fraction. “We made it,” he says.

At that, Magnus lets go of his remaining concerns. Actually, he takes them, and turns them into motivation. Into joy and eagerness and passion.

He nods. “Yes,” he agrees. “We sure did.”

And with a smile, and an array of nerves and colour, the Championships begins.

~

After throwing their overnight bags into the hotel room – a spacious room with a double bed and en-suite bathroom – Magnus and Alec carry their Quickstep costumes downstairs.

They take deep breaths, heading into the bustling ballroom that awaits.

It’s too early to dress, so they’ll find where the School are seated and keep busy until it’s closer to their performance time.

The ballroom is stunning. A beautiful, arched ceiling with raised golden patterns swirls overhead. The huge floor is encircled by hundreds of chairs; half-filled with ticket-buyers and dancers alike.

Most of the judges are already at their place on the platform to the left. The six men and women shuffle papers and sip from glasses of water or wine. In the far side of the room, the orchestra are prepping. A merry little tune soars across the room and mixes in with the laughter and noise.

Magnus and Alec cut through the ballroom, finding where their School are gathered. They find Maryse and Robert assigning numbered cards to the kids, instructing them to be careful with the pins, and to help each other out.

Exchanging a knowing look with Alec, Magnus dives into helping. He looks down the list of names and starts to assist, calling out names. Within minutes, they’re lost in the early morning dances; the time passing quickly.

The younger kids’ performances last until just before midday. Magnus loses count of how many pins he slides through fabric. He forgets how many times he adds some last-minute hairspray to a girl or boy’s up-do.

All the while, Alec is close by; thoughtful with the younger dancers, but firm in his instructions. He's great at keeping their nerves down, or calming them when it's necessary.

“What?” Alec asks quietly, frowning as Magnus continues to watch him. He didn't even realise he was staring until Alec squinted at him. His boyfriend pauses, a hair bobble around his wrist as he instructs the current young dancer – a sweet girl called Zoe – to hold still while he fixes her hair.

When he's done, Magnus says, “You’re good for morale, dear." His eyes flicker down to the now-smiling girl, who had been moments from crying before Alec’s swift rescue.

“Oh. Uh, right. Thanks,” Alec mumbles, but he’s grinning as he returns to fixing Zoe’s hair; tying back the escaping waves. When he’s done, she beams up at him before rushing across the aisle to greet her waiting partner. They wait by the edge of the dance floor, ready for the announcer to call their name out.

The younger couples all dance together on the floor. The judges walk around and note the final five from each round, ready for the under 21s final tomorrow morning.

Magnus sucks in a breath, taking the chance to pause and inhale something other than hairspray.

He offers Zoe a thumbs up, quickly taking a seat when the announcement is made.

The lights dim and the music begins.

He and Alec sit with the School throughout the morning, helping when needed, or enjoying the performances otherwise. The audience are warm and responsive, thankfully, and Magnus starts to look forwards to his own chance to captivate them; to win them over.

He’s not just ready to change the game, but to rewrite it entirely: to throw out whatever uncertainties remain about the new dancing rule.

The morning comes to an end, and the Bronze performers take their seats, and the Silvers take to the floor.

Which means that it’s Isabelle’s turn to shine on the floor.

Magnus has the pleasure of watching the Lightwood girl, and Meliorn, dance a clean, elegant American Smooth for the first dance. They score a respectable eighty-eight out of a possible one hundred points.

When their music ends, the audience launches to their feet, roaring out their delight. Alec and Magnus are ready and waiting to congratulate them when they manage to fight their way through backstage to join the School again.

A short while later, the surrounding speakers hum to life.

_“Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes the first rounds of all Silver rank performances. You can see the second rounds here on the floor tomorrow morning. For now, please enjoy this interval, and show your support for the Gold rank contestants who will begin shortly!”_

Maryse nods, a small, pleased smile on her face, but turns to shoot the other pair a warning glance.

“You ought to get ready,” she instructs. Before either of them can say anything else, she reaches over and pats Alec’s arm, and even manages to smile at Magnus. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, mom,” Alec replies, a slight edge of surprise in his voice. He turns to look at Magnus and asks, “You ready for this, yeah?”

“Indeed.”

Jace and Alec share a hug, and Isabelle throws her arms around Magnus, squeezing out her support.

And then it's time to go. 

A bit dazed, but otherwise well-prepared, Magnus walks side by side with Alec until they find the backstage entrance door.

On the way, they walk past some of the other Schools. Magnus recognises quite a few, and is pleased when they offer him more smiles than frowns. One girl waves at him, her wide eyes awe-struck in a way that makes Magnus stretch his neck higher, waving kindly back at her. Beside him, Alec lets out a quiet chuckle at the small exchange.

They detour around _The Circle’s_ School, not wanting to deal with open glares and smug looks. There are people sipping from champagne flutes or coffee mugs in the hallways; some teachers discussing things in a circle, and another group of dancers helping to re-apply a girl’s lipstick.

As crowded and nerve-wracking as it is, the Championships is such a colourful celebration. Magnus smiles as they make the short walk. All around the place is so much _life_. So much determination and ambition.

Just before they part the curtain leading into the wings, Magnus catches sight of the journalists’ zone; filled with comfortable chairs, tables and a small bar. He catches a familiar face beaming at him, holding out a small recording device in her hand.

Catarina is standing with Ragnor and two other reporters, but they all manage to turn and wave, and Cat cups her hands around her mouth.

“Knock them dead!” she calls out, and Ragnor blows him a kiss as well.

There’s barely time to wave back, as they’re ushered out of the corridors and into the wings.

The first backstage room is filled with pegs, lockers for costumes, and small changing cubicles. Magnus and Alec locate their costumes and slip into the nearest available cubical, changing quickly.

Magnus takes his time to change, working through a simple breathing exercise. 

The fabric of his suit is soft and cool against his skin, and Magnus smiles fondly as he smooths down the waistcoat. The three-piece suit hugs the curves of his body comfortably. It's black and dark-wine purple in colour. The jacket is black, the waistcoat and cane prop are a deep purple, with the accessories matching. He makes quick work of the waistcoat buttons before shrugging on the long, floor-length jacket. Its tailcoat is split into two, brushing the backs of Magnus’ thighs. Once again, it’ll create the lovely movement during the spins and turns.

He’s added a little flair too; black eyeliner, and a dash of matching purple glitter over the lids. A decorative silver chain dangles from one of the loops in his pants. It’s not too long as to cause problems, but Magnus preens as he takes in his appearance in the tall mirror.

_I look rather dashing, if I say so myself._

When Alec steps out of the opposite cubical, Magnus does a double take. Yes, he's wearing the exact same outfit, but still. The guy looks positively _divine_.

"You've seen me wear this during rehearsals," Alec protests, when Magnus is still raking his eyes over him a few moments later.

"Doesn't count," Magnus says, shaking his head. He runs his hands down Alec's jacket, toying with the buttons. "If we didn't have to perform soon, I'd ravish you, dear."

"Hm. Keep it in mind for later." Alec's grin is self-satisfied. It's clear that hethoughroughly enjoys making Magnus weak in the knees.

Before Magnus gets tempted to test out whether they can both fit inside one cubical, they exit the changing rooms. The second room is larger, and other couples are sitting or going over steps in the corner. 

They find a free bench and claim it quickly, keeping relatively to themselves as the time passes in a quiet bubble. 

Magnus' curiosity soon gets the better of him. He starts to glance around.

A moment later and his eyes fall on the English couple. He recognises them from the semi-finals, the ones who've been consistently getting high marks as well. The guy’s hair is an unusual silvery colour, yet it's the open affection shown between the couple that Magnus can't look away from.

The woman - a pretty brunette - catches Magnus stare. She holds it, smiling, and then leans in to say something to her partner. He nods, holding out a hand to help her climb to her feet. The huge skirt of her gown fans out, silver and pale pink. 

Alec bristles as soon as the couple start to walk over to them.

But as Magnus prides himself on being a fairly decent judge of character, he doesn’t flinch. The couple smile as they walk over. There's no malice or arrogance in their eyes. They’re not here to psyche out the other dancers.

_Hopefully._

Alec's reservations disappear a second later.

“Hi,” the brunette greets them, her tone warm and friendly. “I’m Tessa. This is James. I thought I’d say a quick hello. We might not get a chance to see you again.” She holds out a hand, and Magnus shakes it, and then takes Tessa’s partner’s hand when he offers it a second later.

“I’m delighted you made it,” the man says, his kind smile relaxing Magnus in an instant. “Oh, and call me Jem, please," he invites. When he smiles across at the girl, Magnus almost coos at the fondness in Jem’s expression.

_Another couple in love,_ he thinks, the thought a happy one.

“A pleasure to meet you. Officially,” Magnus returns the pleasantries with ease. He shuffles up on the bench so that they can sit together. If only for a few minutes, it’ll be nice to chat with another couple. Alec obliges with a polite smile. 

“You’ve been a joy to watch,” Tessa begins to say, as they settle onto the bench. "I can't wait to see you out there."

Now that she's closer, Magnus can see that there are flowers threaded into Tessa's bun, the same shade as Jem’s hair.

Beside her, Jem nods. “Entirely,” he agrees. “Your work is captivating," he says, inclining his head respectfully. "And your endurance throughout this contest has been incredible too. Although, I’m sure you’re both used to pressure by now,” he adds, and a playful look crosses over his handsome face. 

Magnus beams, unable to hide his gratitude at their flattering remarks. “Well,” he begins, “thank you. You’re too kind. As for the pressure, yes. It’s certainly been…”

“Persistent,” Alec offers dryly.

The four of them share a laugh.

When Jem looks back over, there’s a gentleness in his eyes, one that has Magnus deciding that he very much likes the guy.

“I supposes it's strange to say this, but I really do wish you the best of luck,” Jem says. 

Alec surprises Magnus by replying first. 

“Thank you,” he says, “and you too. You’ll do great.” Alec's voice is firm, but Magnus can hear the surprised gratitude in his voice.

If Jem and Tessa are supportive, can the rest of the world follow suit? 

Someone clears their throat, and when the foursome look up, there’s an anxious-looking assistance gripping a clipboard in her hands.

“Mr. Carstairs, Ms. Gray...you can proceed into the backstage area if you’d like,” she says quietly. Her eyes widen when they flicker across to the others. “Oh, and Mr. Bane, and Mr. Lightwood, you can as well.” She scans her eyes down the papers and nods. “You’re both on in the next half an hour.”

“Thank you, Sophie,” Jem says kindly, looking up at her. When the girl flushes and glances away, Magnus barely suppresses a guilty grin. It’s not the poor guy’s fault that he’s so charming. Magnus understands the curse of beauty quite well.

Tessa lifts a hand to hide her smile as well. When Sophie disappears, she nudges Jem with her elbow. “You’ve probably given her wonderful dream material for a year now,” she teases.

Cheeks flushing, Jem waves aside her remark with a graceful hand. Tessa giggles, laughing into the crook of her partner's shoulder.

They continue to chat occasionally, spending the minutes in good company. Music plays out from the speakers, and there’s a few screens up, showcasing the current couple, but Magnus doesn’t watch. Sometimes he’s keen to watch the other dancers. Today, with the stakes so high, Magnus isn’t wanting to disrupt his focus. He keeps his head down, does some breathing exercises and occasionally makes conversation with Alec or Jem and Tessa.

He just needs to keep calm. Collected- 

“Uh, oh. Incoming.”

“Hm–?”

He gets cut off as a round of applause flares up. Cheers go around the room. The couple who were just performing come sauntering into the backstage area.

Tension suddenly cuts through the air. Although the other dancers clap, there's something uncomfortable about the interruption. As though someone's tainted the calm.

Magnus doesn't have time to ask who came in. He gets his answer shortly.

The guy is tall, with slicked-back blonde hair. There's a cheerful smile on his handsome face. Well, it would be handsome, Magnus thinks, if he didn’t carry himself with such arrogance. His partner wears a dark blue and silver gown, feathery and dramatic; matched with jaw-dropping makeup that must’ve taken incredible skill and time to apply. Ms. Wade is almost as tall as her partner, with curves for days but a smile that shows no warmth.

_Shit._

A shiver runs down his back as he recognises the pair. He'd recognise their fiercest opponent anywhere. 

_The Circle’s_ fiercest dancers commandeer the room, eyeing up the others. Sebastian's smile doesn’t fade, yet the room’s energy seems to fizzle. It prickles around Magnus’ skin like goosebumps.

It's like spying for weakness, the way that Sebastian latches his gaze onto the four of them. His gaze comes to study them, slowly settling on Magnus and Alec. He whispers something to his partner, Amelie’s ear. She nods, letting go of his arm and disappearing into the other room.

Sebastian lifts his chin and walks over, undoing his tie as he does. 

Before anyone can say anything, an assistant comes over to call on Jem and Tessa, stepping right in-front of Sebastian. She holds out a hand, directing them into the next room. Jem and Tessa look worried for a moment, and then reluctantly get up.

Magnus nods for them to leave, wishing that he could get up and flee with them. 

As soon as the pair leave, Magnus' gaze instantly falls back on Sebastian, who barely offers the leaving pair an acknowledgement. His lip curls, bright eyes flashing with contempt.

As soon as Tessa and Jem are out of earshot, the guy makes a move. “I’ve heard a great deal about you…newcomers,” he says in way of greeting. He doesn’t hold out a hand, but the empty smile he offers says everything Magnus needs to know. “I’m Jonathan.”

Alec says, flatly, "I thought it was Sebastian."

Magnus arches an eyebrow, joining in. “It’s Jonathan for performances, yes?” Before the guy can confirm, Magnus continues on. “Some of us require stage names to separate ourselves from our…difficult pasts,” he says sweetly. He knows he shouldn’t be playing this game, but the guy is unbearably cocky.

“Indeed,” Sebastian says, not missing a beat. His manner remains calm and collected. “Call me what you will, I’ll still be claiming gold tomorrow. We didn’t put a step wrong out there, and–“ he pauses, staring pointedly at the pair– “we have tradition on our side. _Propriety_.”

The word sounds like a death sentence coming from Sebastian’s lips.

Magnus scowls, refusing to get riled up by a guy who is clearly too lost in his own ambitions. He just shrugs, and opens his mouth to make an excuse to end the conversation–

“Sebastian, darling,” a voice purrs, interrupting his train of thought, “it’s a _pleasure_ to see you. Your performance was exceptional….Oh. Well, this is a nice surprise.”

A cold shiver stabs into Magnus.

_That voice..._

A woman wearing a deep red cocktail dress approaches Sebastian, heels clicking against the floor. Her voice is just as honeyed and false as Magnus remembers it.

"Camille," Magnus hears himself acknowledge, voice sounding suddenly very far away.

He freezes, helpless to do anything but stare up at her. 

Camille conceals her pleasure well, admittedly. She places a hand delicately on Sebastian’s shoulder and leans in to kiss his cheek. When the guy gives her an almost warm smile in response, Magnus knows that this isn’t a coincidence.

_Fuck. Why is she here? Why now?_

"Magnus, let's go-"

Before Alec can finish, Sebastian lifts a hand, cutting him off. He gestures between them. “Oh, have you met before?” he enquires politely. “I had no idea.”

Magnus clenches his hands into fists. Nails bite against his palms, but the pain keeps him from lashing out. He inhales slowly, but somehow can’t bring himself to walk away, to ignore the pair looming over the bench.

“It’s a pleasure to see you here, dear,” Camille is saying. “And with your new…partner.” Her voice sounds too far away, but the cruel smile she wears matches the crispness of her tone.

Magnus stares up at her, torn between running and staying, fleeing or fighting.

Now that she's here, he doesn't know what to do. Or think.

“A Lightwood. How…taxing.”

_That’s it._

Until now, the tense stalemate has been just that: careful neutrality.

There’s no pretence here; Sebastian clearly knows about their history. It's no coincidence that she just waltzes into the backstage area. 

Magnus isn’t a fool. And he knows that Alec is prepared for the worst too.

But hearing Camille drag Alec into this is another thing entirely.

Magnus narrows his eyes, and slowly stands up from the bench, trying not to show his relief when Alec stands alongside him, silent but making his presence known. His _support_ known.

Plastering on a fake smile, Magnus sucks in a breath and holds out a hand.

“Alec, this is Camille. Camille Belcourt. She’s–“ he pauses, and then settles on– “an old associate.” He doesn’t need to say anything else. Alec knows all about her, and is smart enough to work out why Magnus wants to keep things relatively civil, even if it’s false.

“Is that all?” Camille tuts. “We were so close once,” she reminds him with a coy smile, “and was in not almost only a year ago that we took first place together at the Latin Championships? Have you forgotten us so soon?”

Magnus doesn’t retaliate. He calmly asks, “Why are you here?”

Alec hovers, unsure, but his expression is caught between anger and uncertainty. Magnus knows he's being cautious, trying to work out if Magnus wants him to cut in, to make an excuse for them to leave.

Magnus shakes his head slightly, and Alec relaxes. 

_Thank you,_ he silently thinks. _Just...stay with me. And I'll be fine._

Camille smiles up at Sebastian, and they exchange a quick look.

“Oh, Sebastian and I are old friends,” she happily reveals. But even with happiness, Camille finds a way to make it cold. “He insisted I come along to the Championships, and who am I to turn down an opportunity to see you, darling?” When her gaze flickers back to Magnus, he hates that there’s a small part of him that’s almost relieved, almost joyful. Like Camille missing him makes up for anything. It doesn’t, but Magnus' vindictive streak rises to the surface.

“Well,” Magnus says, “as delightful as it’d be to catch up, we’re on soon. Enjoy the show,” he says, ready to move away. He wants to get the hell away from the both of them. He can’t be in a bad place before their dance. It’s only going to make him feel like crap.

“Oh, we will,” Sebastian says cheerfully. He steps to the side, sweeping out an arm. “I understand your hurry. I’m sure you both need every second to practise, yes?”

An odd, choked gasp comes from Alec’s direction.

When Magnus glances up, splotches of angry red are flushing across Alec’s cheeks.

He narrows his eyes, mouth already half open to retort, “What the hell?" Alec snaps. "At least some of us know how to practise without resorting to drugs.”

Magnus winces. Alec’s forthright retort might score him a point, but it’ll turn sour soon.

And true enough, a few seconds later, Sebastian proves him correct.

The guy nods. “Yes, indeed. Even so, you can fix certain things. Other things–“ Sebastian gives Alec a slow once over, eyes moving between the two, making his message clear– “you have to let destroy themselves. They’re hopeless in thinking they can change what’s proper. What’s _decent_ ,” he says coldly. “Best to leave them be.”

Alec’s hands are shaking. Magnus can _feel_ his fury. If they stay any longer, he knows they'll take it too far. 

“Um, excuse me.”

Fortunately, someone cuts into the tense silence. 

The group turn, and see the assistant from before waving an awkward hand in their direction. She points and says, “Ten minutes.” She frowns at the group, sensing the tension, but Magnus quickly shakes his head and gives her a polite smile. She takes the hint and leaves, disappearing with a shrug.

Which leaves Magnus to turn back to the surprising appearance of his ex-partner.

“We’re done here.”

Magnus blinks, surprised at the determination now colouring Alec’s expression. His tone is sharp, unyielding. When he lifts his chin, facing down Sebastian and Camille, Magnus starts to feel a little more grounded. _Protected_.

“Yes, we are,” Sebastian tonelessly agrees. Camille doesn't say anything. She just stares down at her nails, bored.

"You're only fooling yourselves, after all," Sebastian says.

At that, Magnus digs his fingers into the cane. Oh, how tempting it’d be to swing the prop into Sebastian’s jaw. The delicious sound it would make fills Magnus with cold delight. But he suppresses it, knows he’s better than they are.

Instead, he stretches out his neck, taking his time. He lets the moment build, gathering up their attention. Both Sebastian and Camille are betrayed by their own curiosity. They wait for Magnus to respond.

When he’s ready, Magnus sighs. “Your prejudices only showcase your arrogance in thinking you can win by defaulting to cheap tricks,” he says, steadily holding their gazes. “We’ll leave you in the dust, _dear_ ," he says slowly, staring down his ex-partner. He hums under his breath, turning back to face Sebastian, whose ears are now an ugly shade of red. 

"I must congratulate you, however. How you manage to dance alongside your ego is admirable. I imagine it’s - what was the word you used -  _taxing_?” He gives Camille a cold smile, and then steps away, glad when Alec happily keeps by his side, silent, but his lips are almost twitching into a smile now.

Shaking both from relief and anger, Magnus stalks away without another word. He doesn't wait around to see their reactions. 

The assistants are ready for them, and part the curtains, leading them into the final room. 

As soon as the curtain closes again, the unfriendly pair fading from view, Magnus huffs out a sigh of relief. He instantly relaxes when Alec’s arm snakes around his waist.

“Crap,” Alec mutters, “are you…Are you alright? I had no idea she’d be here…I…”

“Why would you?” Magnus interrupts calmly, placing a hand on Alec’s shoulder and smiling kindly. “It shouldn’t surprise me that they’re friends. Camille once danced ballroom too, back in the day. I just…didn’t expect to see her today,” he admits.

"You sure? You're okay?"

Magnus nods. "I am," he reassures him, smiling at Alec's attentiveness. His boyfriend gives him a few long moments to change his mind. When he doesn't, Alec nods, and leads Magnus over to the closest bench, waiting for their cue. 

Jem and Tessa are exiting through the opposite wings, and Magnus watches them, relaxing as the couple hug. He hopes their dance went well. A bitter stab of regret twists into his chest, that he was kept from watching the pair's dance.

They don't get a chance, and Magnus watches them leave, grip tightening around his cane. 

"Four minutes," an assistant calls out to another helper, who rushes off. 

_Four minutes._

_God. Get it together._

Magnus and Alec sit on the bench, knees bouncing as they listen to the noise coming from outside. The crowd are loud and eager, and Magnus starts to realise how nervous he is. Really goddamn anxious, in fact.

Perhaps it's seeing Camille, and Sebastian, that sets off the worries. But Magnus can't shut his brain off. 

It’s not just enough to be a good dancer. Not anymore. It’s _wanting_ it, more than anything that he’s done before now. 

_Three minutes._

Magnus thinks of the years he’s lived through. He recalls the judgement and the fear; and also the acceptance - both his own, and the love of his friends. What would it mean if after all this time, it didn't change a damn thing?

"We can do this."

Alec's voice suddenly breaks through Magnus' thoughts.

He glances up, swallowing. "You really think so?"

Alec nods. "Would I be here if I didn't?" he says with a careful smile.

And perhaps that's the best part, Magnus thinks. Because in the midst of it all, they found each other. There will always be people like Sebastian, or Camille. But there's also surprising love waiting around the corner, and new friendships waiting to be made. 

Sighing, Magnus eases away some of the fear.

_Two minutes._

“I’m sorry you had to see her again,” Alec says quietly, shifting so that he’s facing Magnus properly. His free hand reaches around, rubbing small circles into his boyfriend's back. “How…How do you feel?” Alec asks.

Magnus takes a few moments to mull it over. “Relieved,” he eventually answers, “because what I feel for her is completely in the past. Angry, because I let her hurt me for so long, and almost let her do it again just now. And…”

“And?” Alec quietly prompts, nudging his knee into Magnus’.

This time, when he smiles, Magnus feels nearly all of the tension leave his body.

“Ready,” he says, finally. And it’s the truth. “They’re everything wrong with tradition. Seeing change as grotesque and frightening. Unwilling to understand or respect anything that’s not affecting themselves.”

"Agreed."

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” a voice calls out, belonging to a tall woman who hurries towards them with a headset on, “but you can go through to the backstage platform now.” The assistant has a kind smile and short, blonde hair. She gestures for them to step through the first set of curtains. She checks their numbers before ushering them through, ready for the announcement to be made.

Magnus adjusts his jacket, grips the cane tightly, and smiles when he sees Alec going through the same motions. They stand together, senses heightened, eyes trained on the curtain. 

_One minute._

Needing to head onto the floor with something good in his mind, Magnus glances across at Alec.

He says, “You look beautiful, if I haven’t told you already.”

Alec chews his lip, grinning. “You did," he confirms. He moves closer. "But, uh, I’m fine with hearing it again.” A grin flashes across Alec’s face. Yes, it’s slightly wobbly, but it’s enough to make Magnus smile back, nerves fluttering into motivation.

“Magnus…Have fun, yeah?”

Magnus arches an eyebrow, slowly, deliberately. “Did my boyfriend really just suggest what I think he did? To have _fun_? Tsk tsk,” he tuts, “whatever have I done to such a respectable professional? What did I do to you, Alexander?”

Alec’s smile shifts, and the look in his eyes glazes over. He tilts his head, and then lifts a hand, palm ghosting against Magnus’ cheek as he cups his chin.

“What did you do?” Alec repeats. “You _loved_ me. You’ve proven time and time again that the world is ready for this. Ready for us. So yeah, have fun,” he repeats with a smirk. “Now get out there and wow them with all…this–“ Alec pauses, waving his free hand to gesture– “and there’s no way we’ll go wrong.”

“Yes, sir,” Magnus says, nodding sharply and giving Alec one last grin, and wink. He quickly closes the distance, dropping a brief kiss against Alec’s lips. It’s a simple brush of lips, but _god yes_ , it soothes Magnus instantly; easing away the electricity into something controllable. Something powerful.

For a moment, pain flashes across his chest, a tight, iron grip. He thinks of Camille, of how easily she let him go, and so easily greeted him without any regret. At how Sebastian was so sure they’d lose in the end.

Did that cruelty have any power? Was there truth in it after all–?

_“Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated for the next performance.”_ The overhead voices once again booms out from the backstage speakers as well as out from the ballroom ones. _“Dancing the Quickstep, please welcome couple number 26, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood, onto the stage!”_

The curtains pair, revealing the twin staircases. The ballroom below greets them with gold lights and loud cheers.

Some of the audience stands, clapping as they do. There’s little time to see anyone, to catch angry, or happy faces. There’s just the nerves and the determination. There’s just the feeling of the metal rail as Magnus descends down the stairs, matching Alec’s pace as his partner takes the parallel staircase.

When they reach the stage, Alec waits at the bottom of the stairs, deliberately feigning disinterest; already in character. He rests the cane between his legs, lips parted as he looks up.

Magnus tries not to grin. He makes his way centre-stage, swinging the cane easily as he goes, chest puffing out. He knows fore well that the audience are already ensnared, drawn in. Just like he wants. 

It was per Alec’s encouragement that they're including a short intro section.

The canes, however, are Magnus’ idea; a prop he’s always wanted to try out.

Planting himself firmly in the centre, Magnus spins around, standing before the audience. He places both hands on the cane, placing it in-front of his body and standing tall. He digs it into the floor, steadying himself.

He glances down, waiting for the music to begin.

He can feel Alec standing behind, watching. It’s satisfying, admittedly; to play this role; the charmer, the seductive gentlemen. But this isn’t a teasing game, like the Tango. It’s fun. Exhausting, but a delight to dance.

The lights dim. All sound dies down.

Anticipation rolls off the audience in waves. Magnus soaks it all up, feels it flow through every inch of him.

Every bit of sweat and fear and hard work has come down to this. It all begins, right now.

Magnus smiles, waiting for the first note to play. Whatever happens, they’re here to _win_.

Gold light floods the floor.

On cue, Magnus looks up, swinging the cane out and leaping into the air. He lands the butterfly kick with ease, gracefully, already throwing himself entirely into the short Swing-inspired section. A few seconds in, he grins, spinning around to catch Alec’s eye. He points with the cane, inviting him onto the floor.

Alec closes the short distance between them in a few, long strides. His own cane is held in his right hand, expertly swinging it. He circles Magnus once, and then they finish the closing intro section together; a blur of spins and careful hand movements with the canes.

The music is infectiously happy. Its rhythm is fast and bouncy. As they slide the canes out onto the floor behind them, Magnus holds out his hand to Alec, raising an eyebrow invitingly. Alec pretends to debate for a moment. Really, the guy underestimates his acting abilities because when Magnus frowns, he’s only half-pretending.

An ear-splitting grin covers Alec’s face. And then his hand is in Magnus’ - where it belongs.

Their in-hold portion of the dance kicks off with an increase in the song’s tempo. As they spin around the first corner of the dancefloor, warmth flickers across Magnus’ skin. The Quickstep is a constant burst of energy. It’s strong and charming, and also hard work. They throw themselves into it, trusting each other entirely.

They nail the first half. The tricky _six quick run_ step is smooth and bouncy, and they get through the difficult _fishtail_ turn without a slip. All the while, Alec lets him lead. _Really_ lets him lead. And Magnus feels their torsos pressed together, their bodies keeping perfect closeness that helps with the all the turns. Their tailcoats fly out, the music soars, and all is well.

It’s in the last section of the dance that it happens.

The slip.

The _running promenade_ step makes them travel halfway across the floor. They open up the hold, lean back and – as the name suggests – run. It requires perfect timing. Perfect synchronicity.

And absolutely _no_ distractions.

But neither Magnus nor Alec plan to see Sebastian and Camille sitting in the front row, watching as they head in their direction.

Professionalism only goes so far. Magnus forces himself to shut off the surprise. He focuses on the step, on finishing the run. He can’t turn away, however, and neither can Alec.

His body tenses. Magnus feels it, feels Alec’s muscles tense up beneath his grip.

_Don’t, don’t, don’t–_

Camille’s smile turns sharp. Dangerous.

_‘They’re hopeless in thinking they can change what’s proper.’_

The words suddenly push into Magnus’ mind. Forceful and painful.

He winces.

Looking back, he won’t remember who stumbles. Or whose foot chases slightly ahead of the other’s foot.

All the judges care about is the mistake.

And it’s impossible to ignore, or cover up.

It’s the smallest of slip ups, but it could cost them a few points. And in the Championships, it could cost them the victory.

_Damn it._

The steps over, they continue back into the final section; in-hold again. They’re light on their feet and moving quickly on, but Magnus hates, _hates_ , that just for a second, they stumbled.

_Keep going. It's just one mistake._

The music pulls them back into the dance, and Magnus clears his head again. He concentrates on Alec’s breathing and his own, on the comfort of dancing with someone he cares about.

That’s all, in the end, there’s time to do.

Their Quickstep finishes with another smaller series of running steps, cutting across the entire floor. They slide and move across the floor like fire. Commanding the attention with ease.

_Yes,_ Magnus thinks. _This is what we’re made of._

They separate, parting with a smile and bending – in perfect unison – to reach for their discarded canes.

As the last few notes sings out, they turn, standing back to back, and turn their heads sharply to look at the audience. As they do, the song ends, and the lights dim to a single spotlight.

Pushing down firmly on the cane, Magnus gulps in a huge lungful of air. He’s trembling a bit, but it doesn’t matter.

The mistake happened. Moving on is all that matters. Getting up is what makes or breaks a small error.

And they did it. They got on with it and sailed through the rest.

Still back to back, Magnus soaks up the few seconds of silence, resting his head against Alec’s back and sharing both the burden and the success; the disappointment and the pride. Because it’s both. Even when you make a mistake, Magnus knows that the joy of it all is equally enriching.

The responding cheers and loud applause from the audience suggests that they’re in agreement.

Magnus and Alec step forwards and take their bows together, brief but content. They head up the stairs again, heading back into the wings.

_What's done is done._

When the curtain falls, cutting off the stage below, Magnus holds up a hand, silencing whatever Alec is about to say.

Magnus can’t look at him yet, can’t bear to see anything resembling disappointment.

“It wasn’t your fault, Alexander," he quickly says. "And I’m not to blame either. The mistake happened. It was a small fumble. Hopefully, we’ll only lose a maximum of three or four points. There was no fault in any of the other steps. Performance-wise, we were otherwise perfect, if I do say so myself.”

He takes in a slow breath and finally looks up.

Surprisingly, Alec doesn’t look too tense. He’s holding the cane loosely, steadily holding Magnus’ gaze with a surprisingly calm expression.

“Yeah…Yeah, I know. I’m just…I guess I wanted it to be perfect.”

“I know,” Magnus says softly, watching as Alec leans against the nearby pillar. “As did I. But you and I both know that life doesn’t come without its challenges.”

That seems to comfort Alec the most. He nods slowly, and comes back over, reaching out to wrap his arms around Magnus. Magnus returns the hug, burying his nose into Alec's shoulder and trying to piece together what to do next. Sometimes these things happen, after all.

As he pulls back, Alec hesitates for a brief second, and then leans in again. He tenderly rests his lips against Magnus’ forehead, pressing the softest kiss into the crease there.

The affectionate gesture has Magnus swallowing down a lump in his throat. Perhaps he’s more disappointed than he’s letting himself realise. Tears sting behind his eyes, but he blinks them quickly away. He wraps his arms around Alec’s waist and holds him for as long as he can.

They're still embracing when a few moments later, the overhead voice announces the inevitable:

_“And the results are in! Couple number 26, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood have been scored…eighty-six points! That currently places them in third place, but we all know, tomorrow’s free dance can drastically change the leader board. And there’s still the audience’s assigned points to come! The next couple onto the stage are…”_

Magnus silences the voice, cuts it off as soon as their result is given.

“Eighty-six,” he repeats. It tastes bitter and cold on his tongue.

Alec rubs a hand across his forehead. “I was hoping for nineties,” he admits. “I’m guessing the judges didn’t miss the opportunity to lower our mark a little more.” Anger flashes in his eyes then.

“It’s manageable,” Magnus says, trying to reassure them both. “What’s done is done. There’s no use in standing around and beating ourselves up about it–“

“Care to explain what that was?” a voice demands.

_Oh, wonderful._

Alec’s mother walks hastily over to them, hands planted firmly on her hips. Apparently she's managed to force her way into the wings, which doesn't surprise Magnus in the slightest. But although there’s no livid anger in her eyes, Maryse is certainly not pleased. Or in a forgiving mood.

“A mistake,” Alec says, surprising them both. “It happens.” His tone is flat, barely regarding his mom at all.

Maryse actually freezes, her eyes widening as she stares at her son. Beside him, Magnus just waits, surveying the situation cautiously. Yes, they made an error, but it’s not a score low enough to kick them out of the running. The rest was danced perfectly.

“Right, well…You’re better than that,” Maryse eventually replies. She seems to deflate all of a sudden, and Magnus wonders if she is in fact sad _for_ them, not because of them. There’s a hint of sadness in her eyes now, and she sighs. “Let's hope your free dance tomorrow raises your marks."

Alec starts to raise his hand, hesitates, and then lowers it back to his side. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, after the silence starts to stretch out. “I…It was a small fumble, but you’re right. We are better than that.”

Magnus doesn't argue with that. He knows it wasn't anyone's fault, but they should've kept going.

He tries for another approach instead.

“We still had enough content to deliver the high marks,” Magnus points out, trying to carefully balance the mood. “Couples have won with mid-seventies points before. This isn’t the end. Not yet.”

Maryse opens her mouth, likely to argue, but then she snaps it shut. Behind her, Magnus suddenly spots Izzy and Jace standing nearby, waiting in the backstage room behind them. They watch the scene unfold silently, but Magnus can see their protectiveness, ready to jump in if the moment calls for it.

They’ll all be ushered out soon. The next contenders will need the backstage space.

“You’ve done all you can for today.” Maryse rests her hands behind her back. She nods once. “Go and get some rest. Dance a flawless routine tomorrow. Your free dance needs to score higher to level out the overall total. It’s no use relying on audience points.”

Magnus agrees that this is fair. At the end of the rounds, the audience can award ten points to one chosen couple, nine to the next, eight to another, and so on. Even hoping for one point is unrealistic. No one ever predicts the outcome for those ten points.

When neither of them move, Maryse narrows her eyes. “You're done for today. Go,” she instructs, but not unkindly. “We have enough helpers and it’s almost the end of the day. Go,” she repeats, more softly this time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and you’ll do us all proud in the free dance. I know it.” She even manages a small smile, which Magnus decides isn’t fake at all.

Magnus forces himself not to look surprised. He's never been fond of the woman, but he certainly respects her as a teacher. Now, even more so. And he has a sneaky feeling that she's feeling the same way about her son's once-accidental partner. 

“Thanks, mom,” Alec says, pausing to offer her a smile in return. "We'll get those marks up tomorrow. I promise." 

Maryse nods, and then turns on her heels to leave. As soon as she opens the curtain that divides the two rooms, Jace and Isabelle rush across to greet them. They have a few minutes together, but then they have to leave, assistants glaring at them from around the room.

All in all, the post-dance haze is...actually pleasant.

The mistake did cost them points, yes, but it doesn’t erase Magnus’ pride. They danced well, and the audience responded well. In the end, the dance represents more than the pair. If it gets people more open-minded, then surely it’s worth the struggle.

Still, Magnus’ face falls when he sees Alec sigh. 

His boyfriend glances away, but not quickly enough. Magnus sees the sadness in his eyes, _feels_ it too. He’s hurting, and Magnus doesn’t know what else to do.

After all, there's not much else that can be done.

They can’t re-do the dance. They can’t blame themselves either. It’s just a really shitty situation.

Quiet and sombre, they head back into the backstage room, leaving the peaceful solitude of the wings. There’s less people here now, the evening coming to a close with the Gold performers. All that’s left to do is get changed and head up to the hotel room.

They cut through the small crowd and return to the changing rooms, which are empty except a few couples. After he’s changed, Magnus stands before the locker, waiting for Alec to reappear. He sighs and rests his head for a moment against the cool door–

“Well, that _was_ unfortunate.”

Magnus spins around and _damn it,_ there she is again.

"I'm not in the mood, Camille," he warns.

Camille surveys him with a simpering look. It’s almost funny. Almost. Everything he used to find so endearing and beautiful about her is now cold and painful.

She leans back against the opposite row of lockers, heel digging into the lowest locker.

She cocks her head. “That mistake was pitiful. It doesn't matter. When you're done here, I'll be waiting. If you're ready to come back, which I presume you are?"

"I'm sorry?"

He blinks, too shocked to be appalled by her suggestion. 

_Wait. She can’t be serious…_

When Camille gives him a pointed look, Magnus realises - horrified - that she's not kidding at all.

She actually believes he'll run back to her. Like a complete fool.

Refusing to give her anymore satisfaction, Magnus levels her with a cool look.

“Whatever, pray tell, happened to _Dumort Academy_?" he asks. "Did you break your new partner’s heart?” He digs his nails into his palm, determined to get this finished. If she’s here to proposition, she’s about to be severely disappointed.

Camille scoffs. “I’m over him. You should be too." When she smiles, the falseness of it makes Magnus queasy. "I’ve dropped my toy," she says. "Now drop yours.”

In an instant, Magnus isn’t cold anymore. Fire suddenly licks across his skin, heating his face and lighting him up with fury.

He can handle most things; taunts, insults, whatever Camille wants to try out. But she’s just overstepped. Gravely.

_I’m finishing this. Now._

He takes a step closer, with purpose.

“I imagine that it’s difficult for you to understand, but Alec is more than a plaything," Magnus says, unflinching as he stares her down. "He’s my partner, my friend, and someone who actually understands what loyalty and dedication means." He almost smiles at that, using the warmth to push on. "I would choose Alec a thousand times over you. I would step out onto a floor and make a dozen mistakes, as long as he’s beside me. I’d learn, and grow, and those,” Magnus says, pausing, “are things you could _never_ do for me. We’re done.”

Camille is silent, and if he didn't know her any better, he'd think she was taken aback. _Hurt_.

"A part of me does want happiness for you, dear," he admits, a little sadly. "Even if you don't deserve it. I'll always want that for you. Against my better judgement. But I can assure you that I'll waste no more time wanting to be a part of that." He doesn't linger on the past, on the longing he used to feel. He gets it over with, keeping his words honest, but brief.

"You broke my heart," he says. "But Alec taught me how to be brave enough to give it away again."

Those words hang long in the air afterwards. They keep Magnus warm, embracing him. Camille, on the other hand, flinches back, and he knows he's stung her pride. There's no fear of rejection in her expression; only the anger at being cast aside by someone she deems inferior.

Magnus hears the nearby cubical shut, announcing Alec's arrival. Before he can step around the corner, Magnus clears his throat pointedly.

"Now, if you’ll excuse me," he begins, gesturing with his head, "I have a beautiful guy I’m mad about who I really want to take to dinner.”

Alec catches all of this, choosing to lean against the locker, looking impressed. When Magnus finishes, Alec lets out a quiet chuckle, before bringing his hands together, clapping a couple of times. It echoes pleasantly about the room, and Camille's lip curls, distaste written plainly on her face.

But she knows she's outnumbered. She's lost, more importantly.

"You're a lost cause," Camille snaps, scowling. She doesn't even bother looking in Alec's direction. She stalks away, the door slamming behind her. 

Magnus, on the other hand, has never heard a door slam sound so beautiful before now.

He holds out his arms, as if to say, 'how'd I do?'.

Alec wastes no time in answering. He shakes his head, whistling softly as he walks over. 

“That,” Alec says, an appreciative smirk on his lips, “was goddamn amazing _. You’re_ amazing,” he corrects, and Magnus preens, staring at Alec's lips until he gets the hint. Alec presses him into the locker, hands resting on his hips as he kisses him, taking Magnus' bottom lip between his teeth and tugging lightly. 

Magnus' head is spinning, but this time, from joy. He's giddy and comforted and overwhelmed all at once. He never thought that he'd be able to so easily walk away from Camille. But he just did. And all because someone as amazing as Alec helped him realise that he deserves better. 

Alec pulls back, nuzzling his nose against his boyfriend's.

“I’m game for that dinner," he hints. "Just saying.”

Magnus nods, tucking his arm into Alec's as they head for the exit.

“About that. Fancy some company?”

To his credit, Alec just shrugs. 

“Who’d you have in mind then?”

~

They end up at a small, warmly-lit restaurant; situated in the second floor of the building complex.

When they leave the ballroom, it doesn’t take long to track down the _London City Ballroom Academy._ There, Magnus finds the two friendly dancers, Jem and Tessa, who graciously accept the extended dinner invitation.

The four head out together, finding an Italian place and settling in for a relaxed meal after an intense day of dancing and nerves.

It’s always agreeable to Magnus, to find new friends and meet new people he’d never likely meet otherwise. And Alec is relaxed around the pair, making easy conversation as they order food and get more familiar.

They chat about dancing, of course, but Magnus also enquires coyly about their relationship.

He learns that Jem was ill as a child, and was encouraged to dance as a way to build his strength. It wasn't a hobby. At first.

He and Tessa met at a dance social, and the sweet, old-fashioned charm of it all has Magnus beaming ear to ear. The pair return the favour, asking about Magnus and Alec’s journey, and Magnus is happy to oblige, describing - with flare and emphasis - all the bumps and joys of their relationship. Alec occasionally adds in, or shakes his head, laughing alongside the group.

When Magnus explains how they were friends first, and that they still are, Jem and Tessa exchange a knowing look, cheeks happily flushing. Magnus feels Alec’s hand reaching out beneath the table, locking their fingers together. Looking across at him, Magnus feels his own cheeks start to redden. Really, he should be used to this; used to the open affection in Alec’s eyes. But he never is.

The night comes to a relaxed end. The couples part in the foyer, heading for their rooms. As Magnus leans in to hug Tessa, she embraces him warmly.

“Thank you for dinner,” Tessa says. “I think we all needed the break. You danced beautifully today, and I can’t wait to see your free dance.”

“Goodnight, dear,” Magnus returns, smiling. He’s glad to have their friendship, if only for a short while, but he has a feeling they’ll be the kind of people who always make you feel welcome, even if their visits are rare. Jem also hugs him warmly.

When they leave, Magnus and Alec take the nearest elevator up onto the fourth floor, turning the corners until they find their hotel room. A good night’s sleep is always best before a competition. Now, more than ever before, Magnus knows that rest is crucial. 

Swiping the key card through the door, Magnus holds it open, smiling a bit when Alec has to duck a fraction to slip into the room.

It's late in the evening, and the ceiling to floor windows overlook the nightlife unfolding. The city below is bright and alive. And it's hard to feel defeated when there's a whole world out there, as well as inside. 

Alec pauses, standing before the windows. Magnus walks over to him, slipping his arms around his waist from behind. He smiles when Alec sighs, softly humming. They stand like that for a few minutes, simply breathing in the quiet, and the view far below. 

"Bed?" Magnus asks quietly.

Alec nods, turning so that he's facing him, still entwined in Magnus' arms. 

"Bed," he affirms.

Climbing into bed, they don't waste time in turning off the lights and shuffling until they're comfortable. 

Magnus ends up in Alec's arms tonight, letting his hands drift down to keep them locked around his waist. 

Just before they drift off to sleep, Magnus says, "Goodnight. I'm sorry that today didn't go as we planned, but we'll come back fighting tomorrow."

Alec tightens his arms around him, responding in full.

"We will," he agrees, his breath warming Magnus' cheek as he presses in closer. His lips brush across Magnus' shoulder, trailing slowly up across his neck. But they're gentle kisses, not going anywhere past a comfortable intimacy. 

“Sleep well,” Alec mumbles, voice already gruff with sleep.

"You too, Alexander."

Eyelids closing, Magnus lets himself fold into the warmth and safety of his boyfriend’s arms.

He dozes off rather quickly.

~

_"Welcome to the second round of the International Ballroom Championships!”_ the overhead voice booms out.

From Alec's spot in the audience, he jumps at how loud it is.

_“_ _Today is where numerous hopefuls and contenders will fight for the title of being crowned champions. As always, the under 21s are up first, followed by the Bronze pairs, Silver, and so on. The exhibition dances will be performed after results have been calculated –including those all-important audience additional points! So be sure to vote for your favourites. Your points really can change the entire leader board…”_

Alec tunes the rest out, forces himself not to react. Instead, he rests his hands in his lap. The cool silk of his suit brushes against his fingers. For today's free dance, their suits are ebony black, silk and smart. Dark silver stitching swirls across the lapels of the jacket; small, decorate flowers. It's simple but elegant, and he actually feels comfortable in it, despite how fancy it is.

Still, he toys with the edges of the jacket, only stopping when Magnus rests a hand against his, shaking his head softly.

“Stop fidgeting,” Magnus warns lightly.

“Right, yeah. It’s not as though we’re laying everything on the line later this afternoon.”

“Exactly. This afternoon, dear. Don’t waste away just yet.”

Calm certainty comes in waves from Magnus today. Alec doesn’t know what it is, but it’s strong. Proud. He doesn’t mention yesterday's mistake again. Neither does Alec. But he senses that today, there's absolutely no chance that either of them will lose focus.

Turning to watch his partner, Alec smiles. Magnus takes a sip from his glass – just water for today – and swirls it about, the ice clinking inside.

It’s been a fairly calm morning; they got up, ate breakfast, and changed in the hotel this time, only heading down when absolutely necessary.

The Saturday competition rounds are slightly different, after all. The layout of the ballroom changes. There are no longer encircling rows and rows of seats. Instead, there are tables and chairs arranged around the dance floor. Schools still sit together, as do friends and family, or special guests.

Looking around at the others sitting on their table, Alec’s eyes fall on his sister. Isabelle is a bundle of nervous energy, drumming her nails against the table. She’ll be on in an hour or so, once the Bronze rank dancers finish. Beside her, Meliorn – dressed in a dark blue, beautiful suit - sits patiently. There’s a matching blue streak in his hair too.

“This is what the pair of you have worked extremely hard for,” Maryse says, leaning over the table to peer across at her children, in turn. “You’re here to win. Remember that. The School can only do so much. The rest is up to you.”

Alec swears he hears Magnus snort, and can practically hear his thoughts; _that was quite possibly the worst pep talk I have ever heard._

But his boyfriend doesn’t retort, thankfully. And Alec himself somehow manages not to roll his eyes.

Still, he finds himself nodding in agreement. Isabelle does too. Whatever happens, it’s up to them to decide. It really is out of Maryse’s, and the School’s hands.

_“It’s time to welcome the first round onto the dance floor. Please put your hands together for the Bronze finalists!”_

As the lights dim, Alec inclines his head, watching the dancers come onto the floor. He smiles fondly, remembering the equal pressure he felt when he was at that rank. The sport is hard and fiercely competitive, no matter what level you’re entering in.

_Good luck,_ he thinks.

The Bronze finals take barely half an hour. Unlike with the higher ranks, the couples all perform together, at the same time. The judges single out the winners by walking around and observing. All the while, the Schools show their support for their students, cheering as the winners are crowned half an hour later.

The winners are a young couple, Zoe and Owen, from _The Clave’s School_ , and Alec is on his feet alongside the rest of the room as they collect their medals and pose for photographs. They don't have an exhibition dance, but they'll be invited back on later on during the evening. 

_“Congratulations once again to the winning couple, contestants number 12, Zoe Cowan and Owen Ridley. And without further ado, the Silver rounds will begin shortly! May all contestants please make their way backstage. Thank you.”_

“Let’s go,” Meliorn offers with a smile, pushing back his chair.

She takes his hand, holding out her skirts with the other hand. She glances across at her mom, and then lingers on Alec. He tries to smile, to show his support without it overwhelming her. He’s been here since the beginning. He knows how much his sister wants to win, how painfully _close_ she is to winning. Adding more pressure onto her shoulders would be a nightmare.

So Alec simply says, “You got this, Iz. Whatever happens, I’m here. Go and…dazzle,” he settles on the word dryly, but with enough of a smile to show his sister that he means every damn word.

Isabelle gets it. Her smile widens, and she quickly comes over to throw her arms around him, also reaching out to squeeze Magnus’ arm.

“See you on the other side, boys,” Izzy says, chewing her lip. She slips her arm through Meliorn’s, and before anyone else can chirp up, the pair are gone, following the other pairs around to the backstage area.

“Are you nervous?” Magnus whispers, leaning in.

“Not at all,” Alec lies. He squirms under Magnus' resolute stare. “Okay. Uh, yeah. I’m nervous," Alec admits. "Not…Not because she’s going to mess up, but because…You know.”

“Because you care,” Magnus finishes. He nods. “I understand. I’m anxious also.”

While they wait for the Silver rounds to begin – individual performances, like theirs, this time – Alec glances around. He takes in the busy roomful of people. He catches many eyes on him – on _them_ , he corrects himself – but they’re not scrutinising. They’re curious. Or impressed.

_Oh, fuck._

For a long moment, he locks eyes with Sebastian. The guy cocks his head, lips twitching in that infuriatingly patient manner of his.

Alec looks away first, already feeling anger flush across his face. But it’s not important anymore. Alec couldn’t care less about the other dancer’s prejudices. Not anymore.

If he’s learned anything throughout this process, it’s just that. Limiting himself because of other people’s fears about change is insane. And undeserving. From here on out, Alec knows he’s a changed man. Both professionally and as an individual. He's someone seeking out so much more than he ever dreamt of.

The thought brings him back to Magnus. He finds himself gazing openly at him, fighting a smile. 

It takes a second or two for Magnus to notice. 

“See something you like?” he enquires. His expression is mischievous enough to break Alec out from his daze.

“Do I seriously need to answer that?”

“It won’t score you any marks, unfortunately,” Magnus admits, “but it will make your boyfriend happy.”

“Then, yeah, I see one thing I like.”

Magnus leans in, lips parting, lids fluttering closed...

Alec shifts at the last minute, instead leaning in and picking up the glass sitting on the table in front of his boyfriend.

Holding it up with a smirk, Alec watches as Magnus’ jaw drops.

“My throat’s been dry all morning," he lies. "I never thought you’d ask." Keeping his expression neutral, Alec smugly takes a sip from Magnus’ glass. He makes a show of sighing contently, placing it back down on the table. He laughs when Magnus gives an indignant huff, waving a hand in dismissal.

“You’re really nice to look at too,” Alec says quietly, licking his lips. Magnus’ eyes dart between his, before resting on the hand resting on his knee. He sips from his glass, but Alec knows he’s won this particular round. Magnus’ light blush and happy smile confirms this.

They don’t have too long to wait until Izzy performs.

She’s announced halfway through the Silver section. As she glides onto the floor, Alec forces himself not to hold his breath. He grabs for Magnus’ hand under the table, holding it tightly; and throughout the dance, he doesn’t once let go.

People clap and welcome them onto the stage.

After that, it's all into their hands.

And what a damn good show they put on. The beautiful pair captivate the audience in a heartbeat. Between their natural stage presence and the comfortable affection they show, Alec knows they’re well on their way to winning. Isabelle’s V-neck gown is turquoise blue, with a dark golden waistband and beading. Meliorn’s suit is the same, a matching blue strip in his ponytail.

_I’m so proud of you, Iz. Whatever happens, you’ll go far._

As he watches the dance unfold, Alec keeps hold of Magnus’ hand. Tears fill his eyes, helplessly proud as he watches Isabelle and Meliorn perform an elegant and colourful Foxtrot. They’ve taken a simple dance and added flair and personality. Their two lifts are extravagant yet tasteful, worked seemingly into the choreography. Meliorn leads her with ease, but Izzy is by no means a bystander. They balance each other wonderfully.

Alec risks glancing across at his mother, surprised to see Robert smiling, and Maryse wiping at her eyes.

She might be a strict teacher, but Alec forgets that she’s a proud mom as well.

_Sometimes._

As soon as the music fades, the applause ricochets around the ballroom. It’s almost deafening.

Alec grins as the crowd cheers, watching. His sister drops into a graceful curtsy beside Meliorn, who bows, smiling proudly.  The pair walk off the floor to the sound of loud applause, and Alec claps and shouts alongside everyone else.

_“What a performance, folks! The judges’ results are in..."_

Alec curls his toes, closes his eyes; praying, praying-

_"Couple number 35, Isabelle Lightwood and Meliorn Ataya, have been awarded…a score of ninety-two points! That places them in first position, with a solid lead of three points. Will they hold onto the top spot? Remember, those audience points can always change things…”_

Alec ignores the end part.

Instead, he continues to smile happily until Isabelle and Meliorn have returned to the table minutes later. They sit down, accepting hugs and congratulations from their friends.

“Isabelle, that was phenomenal,” Magnus praises. “How many couples are left to dance before they crown you?” he asks with a playful smirk.

Waving off his flattery, Izzy shakes her head, laughing softly. “There’s four more dancers. But…hopefully, we did it.” She exchanges a quick, grateful look with her partner.

Meliorn nods, agreeing. "It's likely that we can't be overtaken," he confirms. 

And, true enough, their faith is proven right.

As the final couple performs, the leader board remains the same. Meliorn and Isabelle are still a few points higher than everyone else, even once the totals of the two dances have been added up.

At the end of the round, all of the Silver couples head onto the dance floor again. Before the winners are announced, the audience points need to get assigned. 

Alec squeezes his eyes shut, feels his heartbeat rising in his ears.

He can hardly hear a damn thing, but he concentrates on listening to the presenter, on waiting for the results.

_“Eight points from the audience results go to couple number 35, Isabelle Lightwood and Meliorn Ataya. Congratulations!”_

Alec’s eyes snap open. “Eight points,” he repeats, hastily turning to look around the table. “Is it enough? Can anyone overtake them with nine or ten points?”

Maryse is already leaning over the table, a pen and notepad out on the surface. She makes hasty scribbles, and looks up.

“No,” she says faintly. Shock flashes across her face. “They’ve...won.”

_She did it. Holy shit, she did it. Iz…_

Minutes later, and Alec gets the pleasure of watching his sister get crowned a medallist at the International Ballroom Championships. The best of the best.

The other Silver rank dancers clap politely, and Alec doesn’t catch sight of many angry faces. Disappointed, yes, but they all agree that the result was deserving.

Alec heads to the front of the stage, waiting for the presenter to nod, to say they can come up to greet the winners. He claps and watches Izzy and Meliorn take numerous photos with the press. Their smiles light up the entire stage.

As he watches, Alec feels tears once again prickle behind his eyelids. Isabelle won. After all her hard work, she finally got a victory.

Seeing it actually happen gives him the courage to believe that maybe, _just maybe_ , his own hard work will pay off too. If not this year, then next year. Next time, they’ll aim higher and get there.

For now, he rushes across the floor and embraces Isabelle so tightly that he half pulls his sister off her feet.

She hugs him tightly, giggling at his eagerness.

Even Maryse offers her daughter a tight hug, pride shining openly in her eyes. Alec’s throat constricts and again, he can’t think of a single word to say. 

“So,” Isabelle says, using the trophy to point, “does this mean that I can dance Latin as well next Season? Like we agreed?”

Maryse grimaces. The frown on his mom's face is so childlike that Alec has to bite his lip to hold back a grin.

Isabelle, however, doesn’t hold back. She places her free hand on her hip, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

"So?"

Her mother gives in first. “Have you ever known a Lightwood to break their word?” Maryse demands, but there’s little heat in it. She sighs. “Yes. A promise is a promise, after all. Yes, you may compete in– _oof!”_

She stumbles back when Izzy hugs her again, whispering a dozen _thank yous_ into her mom’s shoulder. Maryse hesitates before hugging her back, arms coming around to pull her daughter closer.

As the noise dies down slowly, the dancers start to head off the dance floor.

Alec happily obliges Izzy when she loops her arm through his and saunters away. _This_ , he’s always been happy in doing; showing his talented younger sister off to the world. He’s never actually thought about missing this, dancing with Isabelle. And a small part of him does. It’s comforting and safe.

But then he catches sight of Magnus standing by their table, waiting with a huge grin - and open arms held out for Isabelle to run into – and Alec knows that he’d never go back.

Right here, and right now, is exactly where he wants to be.

~

Unlike yesterday, Magnus and Alec are the last couple to perform for the Gold rank.

They sit through most of the other couple’s performances, and when the tension gets too unbearable, they take short walks around the hotel or simply stroll down the corridors for a bit. Anything to clear their minds. They manage to watch Lydia and Raj’s dance – a traditional, precise American Smooth – and cheer when they place third. For now.

Jem and Tessa’s free dance is a breathtaking waltz, and Alec can’t help but feel good-naturedly competitive; to try and match their passion, and their dedication.

He also notices that a lot of the couples favour dramatics over content. Some people over-use their props, or spend too much time on the story set up. They haven’t worked the story _into_ the dance.

_Not like we have,_ Alec thinks proudly.

Even Sebastian and Amelie throw in too many lifts, which scores them performance marks, but makes them lose content marks. The couple use easy transitions rather than pushing themselves for more. They score a respectable ninety points, keeping them in first place.

_It could still change._

But with their dance fast approaching, Alec has a sinking feeling that he’ll have to settle for second or third place. Jem and Tessa are currently in second place, and Alec isn’t sure if they can overtake them, not after their excellent free dance.

There’s no time for debating, or guessing.

The free dance approaches, and Alec promises himself, his partner, and everyone who’s ever supported him that he’s going to give it absolutely _everything_.

“Good luck, big brother,” Isabelle says, when they stand to head off into the wings.

Maryse rests her hand against his cheek, and although he’s silent, Robert also looks somewhat proud as he stares across at his son.

“You’ve given this your all,” Maryse says, something fierce in her eyes, “don’t hold back now, Alec. You came to win. Block out the audience, the lights, whatever it takes, and _win_ ,” she emphasises with a nod. Her gaze flickers across to Magnus. “And you,” she begins, “have been a nuisance since I met you. At least win out of spite to prove me wrong.”

Alec does laugh then, helpless against holding it back.

Magnus looks stunned for a long moment, but then regains his composure enough to smirk.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and to his credit, Alec senses that it’s only somewhat sarcastic. He watches as Maryse and Magnus stare each other down for a few more seconds, but thankfully, the world doesn’t end. They turn away from each other.

As the current couple on the floor bows to the audience, Magnus and Alec cut a path around the room. They head into the backstage wings, ready and waiting.

Inside, it’s almost empty, oddly enough; a ghost town compared to yesterday’s chaos. But they’re the last couple. Everyone else is seated, or consoling themselves if they didn’t make the top three. As of now, the leader board places Sebastian in the lead still, with Jem and Tessa in second place, and Lydia and Raj in third.

Alec winces, not wanting to knock his friend off the podium, but he knows that Lydia will understand. He has a feeling she’ll be more than supportive of them knocking _The Circle's_ School down a peg or two. Or three.

“This way, you two,” the assistant tells them, holding out the curtain and ushering them into the waiting area. The thick, red velvet curtains hang as they usually do, and the crowd’s volume rises and falls with natural conversation, like usual.

Everything is as it should be. Calm. Waiting. Steady–

A sudden wave, powerful and intense, washes over Alec. It starts in his toes, a gentle tingling. It teases up his legs, sparking across his arms and spinning into his head, making him dizzy. He clumsily throws an arm out, hand finding the nearby wall.

“Alexander,” Magnus’ voice is soft, and nearby, but Alec can only hear a painful ringing in his ears.

_Fuck. No._

_I can’t panic now._

Taking deep breathes in, and exhaling slowly, Alec starts to calm down. He straightens, turning towards Magnus, who is peering up at him, a hand resting against the small of Alec’s back. He rubs in slow circles, soothingly.

“I’m…I’m okay,” Alec manages to mumble. It’s a bit of a lie. After all, his partner can no doubt see his panic. A few moments later, and the gripping sensation starts to fade away. He finishes off the breathing exercise, focusing on the cool air, and on Magnus’ gentle touch.

_“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our final act. These two have been the dark horses of the competition, but after yesterday’s fumble, are they ready to win?_ ”

Alec’s eyes snap open. He turns to Magnus and looks at him, studying the smooth lines across his lids, and the dimples flashing when he smiles. He exhales, slowly, and although the overhead voice continues to introduce them, Alec blocks it out.

He ignores whatever shit the guy is saying and steps forwards, closer to Magnus.

“I…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Magnus quickly says. He reaches out and takes hold of both of Alec’s hands. “Just…Ignore the judges. Ignore anyone who has ever suggested that you’re not good enough to be here. Focus on us instead. Let everything else fade away.”

Alec nods, slowly. He grips Magnus’ hands tightly, glad that his breathes seem to be coming out more evenly now.

“One last thing,” Magnus adds.

When he glances back up at him, Alec is surprised to see a beautiful, dazzling grin covering Magnus’ face. He wears it proudly and happily, not holding anything back. He’s a bold colour in a world that prefers to shield behind someone else.

Alec lifts his chin and forces himself to believe entirely in the next few minutes. In the dance that’s about to unfold. _Their_ dance.

Because it is, theirs. No one else can do it justice.

Magnus cocks his head to the side, sizing up Alec’s sudden shift. He must read him well – which really doesn’t surprise Alec – because Magnus nods, humming in agreement.

“When we’re out there, just remember this,” Magnus says, “that we’re here because we deserve to be. We fought for it. Together.” His voice is softer now. The intimacy in this quiet moment orbits around Alec. He gets lost in it, and found.

“Alexander, keep your eyes on me and you’ll never forget that,” Magnus promises. “I want you to always remember why you’re dancing, and who you’re dancing for. Look back on why you want to win, and why we’re going to. Keep your eyes on me,” Magnus softly repeats, “and keep your hand in mine–“ he places his palm over Alec’s chest, fingers splaying out, and smiles– “and we’ve already won, my love.”

With that, Alec accepts it all. Everything that’s come, and everything that will.

Because Magnus is right. They’re in it together, and really, isn’t that what counts?

“We’ve already won,” Alec repeats softly. He says it again, firmly, and Magnus’ smile blossoms into something beautiful.

_“…And with that, please welcome your final Gold contestants of the evening, couple number 26, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood!”_

Alec smooths out his suit one last time.

He extends a hand in offering, and Magnus slides his palm across his, cupping gently around Alec’s fingers.

“Here goes,” Magnus says.

Alec nods, swallowing down the last reservation. “Here goes,” he agrees.

The assistant clears her throat. "On three," she instructs.

The guy beside her nods, holding out a hand as he counts down.

"Three, two, one-"

The curtains are parted. The audience is revealed.

Alec's heart leaps into his throat, but this time, he's ready for it. He smiles through the nerves. 

Unlike with the Quickstep, they take the stairs together, and when they reach the floor, Alec steps out onto the ballroom dance floor with all the determination and courage he can muster. Magnus’ hand stays in his all the while, an anchoring comfort amidst the bright lights and cheers. He doesn’t look for anyone. They won’t be of use. Not now, at least.

It’s only Magnus who matters now. Only the dance.

The applause dies down, the audience falling quiet with anticipation.

The pair find their starting positions in the dead centre of the large space. They stand facing each other, but standing apart, bodies angled at a diagonal to the other; as if not quite seeing each other, or getting ready to.

It’s the start of the dance, and also the start of their story.

It’s that seemingly ordinary teaching day, when a beautiful guy waltzed right into Alec’s arms, and changed his world; the feeling of having the wind knocked from your lungs and loving every damn second of it. 

It’s getting up, growing and becoming stronger because of it.

And most of all, it’s showcasing to the room, and the world, that their story is one worth telling. The dance is incredibly difficult and intricate, but it’s also romantic and unashamedly so.

_Make it count,_  Alec tells himself, the final words he’ll think. _Give this your everything._

It takes waiting for the music to start for Alec to come to terms with just how ready for this he is. He only hopes everyone else is too.

A familiar, sweet melody drifts across the floor.

_It's time._

The first notes begin, and everything inside Alec’s head goes quiet. Safe. Understanding.

Alec slowly turns away, mirroring Magnus’ steps so that they’re back to back. They keep the movement going, turning again so that they're once again facing each other.

_The first meeting._

Alec holds out a hand, hesitates, and pulls away.

In the same breath, Magnus reaches out, extending both arms.

It actually pains him to turn back around, but Alec does.

The routine starts like how they began; softly, with hope but also fear. Alec takes the uncertainty of that first meeting, remembering how conflicted he once felt. Magnus’ arm slips around his torso, and he lifts the other hand to tilt Alec’s chin up to face him. Magnus’ eyes are slightly wide, the fierce promise of a love to come burning across the lovely, warm brown.

Alec leans back, straightening and extending his left arm. Magnus takes him into hold, still with his chest to Alec’s back, and that's how they start. They cross the floor carefully yet quickly, learning to get used to each other’s rhythm.

The sway of the dance is easy to surrender to. It’s fast, yet rises and falls with a natural rhythm, reminding Alec of a heartbeat; strong, unyielding.

They dance in this hold for a few bars, and then, as they reach the first corner of the dance floor, Alec spins around, facing Magnus. He inhales sharply, drinking in every part of him and smiling.

_Here comes the first dance._

He recalls the first waltz, and it’s almost like he’s dancing it again.

Alec slides his arm around Magnus’ waist, taking Magnus’ hand in his. The formal hold takes only a second to relax into. And then they’re off again.

They begin with a sharp _contra check_ ; Magnus’ back arching as he leans back, and Alec is there to support him, smoothly leading him through the first series of difficult spins. Their tailcoats fly out, matching the soft urgency of the music.

It’s fast, and so easy to get dizzy. But Alec never feels anything other than certain.

They push apart, opening into a butterfly step, and Alec makes sure to spin Magnus carefully before pulling him back into hold.

Again, the hold variation changes. This time, Magnus slips a hand around his neck, fingers gently gripping the nape. Alec’s hand returns to his waist, and their free arms extend, balancing out for the upcoming rotations.

Alec smiles, knows that the transitions are smooth, and surprising. But it’s a part of Magnus’ clever choreography; to keep changing hold, from traditional to formal to intimate. To use the different holds to show the journey they’ve taken together.

The music is gentle and rises occasionally, but their footwork carries it. It's a balance of fast steps, spins and a consistent melody. At one point, Alec dips Magnus carefully, following the beautiful curve of his neck as he leans back. And then they rush off into a _six quick pivots_ step _._

And for once, Alec seriously doesn’t care what anyone else is thinking.

Because this dance is everything he’s ever wanted to be brave enough to showcase.

The first lift comes halfway through the dance. Again, they keep it simple, careful to ensure that it doesn’t mess up the fluidity of the dance.

The pair push out, and then Magnus steps quickly back, hands perching on Alec’s shoulder as he hoists him carefully into the air. It’s simple, just a short lift, with Magnus kicking a leg back, arching it beautifully. But they maintain eye contact throughout, and as Alec lowers him, their noses brush, and then he’s back on a cobbled street, kissing Magnus under the streetlamp. He’s back to reliving the passion of the Tango, of letting himself _want_.

They return to formal hold, but this time, Magnus leads, arm pressed close against Alec’s back.

Alec smiles, relaxing into being led. His confidence shines, warming his skin.

It’s just like reliving all their best moments. And the difficult ones too.

He can almost feel himself falling in love with Magnus all over again. Not that it’d take much encouragement.

There are so many memories to unfold, to pick out and relive. He buries himself in the colours of each one, remembers the fear, the courage, and the steady faith in loving someone whose soul you understand entirely.

They have a small section apart, the American Smooth elements. It’s classical and contemporary at the same time. They keep in perfect synchronicity as they step across the floor, mirroring each other’s steps. Face to face, but a little distance between them. Alec steps closer, and they circle each other, stepping closer and closer until they’re almost touching.

Magnus smiles, inclining his head a fraction, getting ready for the second lift. It’s all the permission Alec needs. He closes the distance, hooks a leg around Magnus’ hip and lets his partner spin him for a few moments. His hands rest on either side of Magnus’ neck, and he closes his eyes, knowing that there’s no hiding the love between them. There’s no need to anymore. It’s a part of the dance after all. It’s them; stripped back and completely honest.

When Magnus lowers him, Alec slips back into traditional hold, and they begin the final turn about the floor.

It’s the trickiest, the conclusion; the result of all of the hard work. They spin, balancing perfectly, and Alec lets his body align completely with his heart. Everything he wants boils down to this. To dancing, to Magnus, and to standing in the light and holding nothing back.

Both of their previous dances end in dips. This time, they don't. There’s always a risk of being too predictable, or worse, cliché.

For the free dance, they keep it simple, but unique.

Something to finish their story appropriately: with a _beginning._

They pull apart, facing each other. Alec’s chest heaves, and he can feel sweat across his brow, ghosting across his hands. He lets it show, delirious and happy and exhausted all at once.

_God, I’m a lucky guy_ , he thinks.

Gazing across at Magnus would make anyone send up a prayer or two, but it suddenly hits Alec that he’s overwhelmingly fortunate.

And Magnus was right. All along. Winning is important, indeed. But right now, nothing can take away the fact that Alec’s in love, and happy; that they’ve achieved so much already.

Alec raises Magnus’ hand to his lips, and as the song ends, he presses the lightest kiss across his knuckles. The lights dim a bit, and the audience starts to stir. There’s that hesitant silence that always follows a dance.

And then the uproar begins: the joyous, loud cheers that soar through Alec’s body, lighting it up with intoxicating happiness.

He and Magnus face the audience and take their bows, both grinning and flushed and beyond satisfied. They nailed the dance, soared through every spin and kept the transitions and lifts smooth.

They really couldn’t have danced it any better.

The judges deliberate for another minute, and then they hand over the results to the presenter, who faces the audience with a grin and announces, “Before we invite all the Gold couples back onto the floor, the judges have the score for our final couple. Couple number 26, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood, have scored…”

Alec chews the inside of his lip, waiting beside Magnus.

The air thickens, tightens around him like a chain.

_“…ninety-eight points! What a victory! Unfortunately, this still brings them to a total of one hundred and eight four points. For now, they will be walking home with second place, but we are currently counting the audience votes. In the meantime, may all couples return to the dance floor and await the final scores.”_

_Ninety eight,_ Alec repeats. He exchanges a happy look with Magnus.

It's all they could've asked for. Now it's up to the audience. 

Unlike before, Magnus and Alec remain on the dance floor, as per the instructions of the presenters and judges. All the other couples from the Gold rank head onto the ballroom floor, taking their place in two, long rows.

There are suddenly a rainbow of dresses and suits filling the space. A few teachers and friends and family sneak on as well, chatting excitedly. Soon, they’ll be ushered off, but for now, the dance floor is filled with nervous dancers and a thick tension.

_This is it,_ Alec thinks.

“We’ll get a few points from the audience, I suspect,” Magnus says, chest still heaving from the dance. “But no more than that, Alexander. The guy was unfortunately right. There shall be no gold medal for us today, my dear.”

There’s a careful calm to his tone. Alec knows that he’s fighting down the disappointment. He’s hurt. And disappointed. Alec knows because he feels it too. Especially because Sebastian is standing nearby, eyeing them up with a slow smirk. He turns away, and Alec sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingertips.

Glancing around, Alec takes it all in. Some people are smiling, even though they’re firmly aware that they haven’t won. Others are consoling their friends, or dancers who don’t even belong to their School. There’s a unity in the aftermath of the competition. Alec admits that he was wrapped up in his own thoughts until now. Seeing the surprising warmth all around the room settles his nerves, and the disappointment.

Alec makes a decision then. Realises what the right thing to do is.

He grips Magnus’ waist, encouraging him to turn around and face him. When he does, Alec hates that the glistening in his boyfriend’s eyes isn’t from joy. Not anymore. These are tears of frustration, of wanting more for the both of them.

Alec tilts his chin up. He doesn’t move to embrace him, but he keeps his arms resting against Magnus’ waist as he speaks.

“I’m proud,” he says firmly. “We came out and rose above expectation; our own, the School’s, and pretty much everyone here. So, yeah, we didn’t get that first place. Which sucks. But Magnus–“ Alec pauses to smile, and then finishes– “next year, we’ll place first. This is just the beginning, right?”

Sighing, Magnus nods. “Alec…”

"The reason we did all of this was to prove to the rest of the world that it’s a worthy cause. That the new rule change was a good thing. I don’t know about you,” Alec says, letting his smile widen, “but I think we did a damn good job of that. The crowd gave us a great response, for both dances. And the reports have been…They’ve been incredible.”

He pauses, letting the words slip out, honest but gentle. “Magnus, I know…I know you wanted more. For us. It’s frustrating. We deserved to win. It was unfortunate. But remember what you said to Camille? About learning and growing? Side by side, remember.”

Magnus blinks slowly, eyes fixing firmly on Alec’s. He nods, lips finally tugging upwards.

“Continue,” he invites with a wry look.

Alec does, determined to make his partner see how proud he truly is.

“This is a huge game changer,” he points out, gesturing around. “We made it to the finals. The support, and the reactions, and everyone who’s stood by us, Magnus, they’re proof that we’ve won more than a damn medal.” He lifts Magnus’ chin carefully. “You have inspired me, Magnus, and hundreds of others. Believe me, you’ve no reason to feel like you let anyone down; not yourself, the School, and certainly not me. Screw what anyone else thinks. Was it worth it? To you, was it all worthwhile?”

As the buzz starts to quieten down – and the judges make their way from the table to stand before the dancers – Magnus nods.

“Yes,” he says. “It was. Thank you for being my partner, Alexander. It’s usually easy to express how I feel, but…Words cannot express my gratitude. Or my love.”

“You don’t have to,” Alec says, smiling. “I already know.”

And with that, Magnus turns around, still in Alec’s arms. He leans back, resting his head against Alec’s chest as they await the results. The other dancers press closer, the two rows shifting nervously. A silence falls over the entire ballroom, the Schools and audience united in waiting for the results to be revealed.

_Now or never_ , Alec thinks. He just really hopes that they keep the second place.

The presenter steps forwards. _“Firstly, congratulations to all the couple,”_ he begins. His words also sing out from the overhead speakers. _“Your performances have entertained us over the weekend. We’ve seen romance and passion and everything in-between. Your dedication and commitment is commendable.”_

At that, polite applause washes across the room. When it dies down, the presenter continues.

_“And so, before we crown our Gold winners, we have the audience’s chosen ten couples to reveal. Starting with one point…”_

One points gets awarded to one of _The Circle’s_  couples. Forcing himself to be a good sport, Alec claps alongside everyone else. 

He resists closing his eyes. Prayers aren't going to help them.

But they really need to get awarded at least four or five points to keep their place.

_“And two points goes to…”_

Again, their name doesn’t get called out. Three, four and five points get awarded next, but still, Magnus and Alec’s names fail to echo around the room.

When it gets to seven, Alec has to fight against the tears stinging behind his eyelids. He senses Magnus’ body tense in awareness.

They’d been relying on getting a few points at least. But the presenter is now awarding the seven points, and it doesn’t look like they’ll be getting any at this rate.

_“Seven points go to couple number 7, Jonathan Morgenstern and Amelie Wade. Congratulations, your total is now one hundred and ninety-three!”_

“Shit,” Alec mutters, thankfully too quietly to be overheard by anyone else. Magnus stiffens and hisses out a curse of his own, as their opponents shoot even higher up in the leader board. Sebastian’s face is as smug as ever as he dips into a small bow, Amelie dropping into a curtsy beside him.

While the applause dies down, Alec does the calculation in his mind.

They have one hundred and eighty four points.

There’s no way they can overtake them unless they get nine or ten points. Alec is a fan of faith, but this seems more like a miracle.

They really will have to be content with the silver.

Alec’s already rehearsing his fake smile, and mastering the concealed flinch whenever someone says, ‘there’s always next year’. Magnus reaches out and squeezes his hand, not saying a word, but Alec clutches to it, holding on like a lifeline.

Eight points get awarded to a couple that Alec’s never seen before, but there’s often a sympathy vote. Or a couple who gets voted in for sheer entertainment – which Alec normally is alright with, but now he’s biting his lip to stop from scowling.

_“Nine points goes to…couple number 5, James Carstairs and Tessa Gray, bringing their score to a total of one hundred and ninety! This isn’t enough to push them higher, but they are currently at a respectable second place.”_

_They pushed ahead of us,_ Alec thinks, torn between disappointment and pleasure. 

He glances around, trying to guess where the ten points will go. One couple, Jasper and Kaelie - who are mid leader board - could easily get the audience’s favour, or Lydia and Raj. Or Jessamine and Nate, another couple from Jem and Tessa's School.

_We're gonna end up third or fourth_ , Alec realises. _Great..._

The sinking feeling starts to hollow out his happiness. He meant every word of what he said to Magnus beforehand. He _is_ proud.

But the stubborn part of Alec refuses to accept that they didn’t get at least _some_ points from the audience, especially given their incredible reactions.

As if on cue, a huge uproar cuts through Alec’s thoughts. The presenter is beaming, clapping the card between his hands. People climb to their feet, and a lot of the couples are exchanging shocked looks, or equally infectious smiles.

_Shit._

Alec tilts his head to look at Magnus.

“I wasn’t paying attention. Who’d it go to?” Alec whispers.

_Who got the ten points?_

Cursing himself for zoning out at the wrong time, Alec peers down at Magnus, who for some reason, looks oddly pale with shock.

"Magnus? Wh-"

“Um." Magnus blinks, turning slowly, as if in a trance, to face his partner. "I may be wrong…but I believe….us?”

What feels like a burst of electricity suddenly shocks itself through Alec's mind. His jaw drops, glancing around and realising that _oh shit,_ people are in fact looking at them. Because...they won. Because they-

The roaring cheers from the crowd finally begin to sound real.

Magnus is still frozen, and if it wasn't so shocking, Alec would laugh at his expression.

“Congratulations!” someone cries out.

"F-For what?" Alec chokes out.

"For winning, you idiot," Tessa exclaims, her eyes wide. She rushes up to them, shaking them both. When they stare blankly, she looks up at them, incredulous. Before they can gather up a shred of dignity, she and Jem exchange a grin before shoving the pair forwards. Magnus and Alec stumble together, right into the bright lights and the applause echoing off the large chambers.

_We…We won?_

_How?_

“Ten points,” he hears Magnus says faintly.

“W-what?”

“Ten points…It brings our total up to one hundred and ninety four. Alexander, we did it.”

_We beat them by one point. Holy shi–_

As if in a dream, Alec reaches out to hold onto something, and fumbles with Magnus’ hand, pulling him closer to his side. Brain on autopilot, Alec drops into an awkward bow – definitely not his finest moment – and Magnus catches up a second later, dipping into his own, slightly more elegant, bow. They stand up again, and just stare out into the crowd, and then at each other.

And then the laughter begins.

"We won."

He says it again, and hears the truth spill out from Magnus' lips moments later.

Alec claps a hand across his mouth, but the loud, happy laughter spills out like a confession. The sweetest kind of confession, something that can’t be taken from them. Magnus moves first. He throws himself into Alec’s arms, hugging him so tightly that Alec forgets how to breathe. Not that he minds. At all. He’s already slightly dizzy and giddy, why not add breathlessness into the mix? He’s laughing, and so is Magnus, as they sway on the spot and hug.

The other couples are congratulating them, some standing a short distance away as they clap. A few look pissed off, but Alec doesn’t give a damn. He doesn’t even bother looking for Sebastian’s reaction. The biggest victory after all is ignoring him.

“What did I tell you?” Magnus says quietly. A tear drips down his cheek, and Alec swipes it gently aside with the pad of his thumb, smiling softly.

“What?” he asks.

Magnus beams up at him. “Eyes on me,” he says, “and we’d win.”

Alec laughs again, nodding in agreement. “Well then, I guess…I guess I’d better never take them off you, huh?”

“Alexander,” Magnus breathes out. He buries his nose into the crook of his shoulder again, soft skin against cool silk, and the heat of him, the real, strong sensation of holding someone in his arms, makes Alec want to rush out of the spotlight and kiss him senselessly. He settles for hugging back, and then breaking away to accept the trophy, from the bemused-looking presenters, who thankfully interpret their dazed reactions as shock.

Alec and Magnus stumbles through a short round of photos with the press, alongside the second and third place couple. Again, Alec doesn't even bother glancing in Sebastian's direction, but he lets himself grin and congratulate Jem and Tessa, who look far from disappointed with their third place. 

The minutes drift by, slowly and dreamily. Alec doesn't move from Magnus' side, walking around like the world is theirs. And it kinda is. 

The presenter turns to address the crowd, laughing.

_“And there we have it, your Gold winners! If you’d like to head backstage,"_ he says, _"we’ll prepare your exhibition song shortly. Once again, congratulations to couple number 26, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood, our Gold victors!”_

As the other couples exit the floor, a handful of people rush over to greet Alec and Magnus. The press eagerly thrust out a dozen Dictaphone recorders. Alec’s usual grimacing reaction is nowhere to be seen. He’s so relieved and overjoyed that he greets the press with a smile instead.

“Care to comment on your surprising victory?” one person calls out. A dozen cameras click and Alec blinks at the occasional flash.

“Uh…”

Just as he’s about to stumble out a brief answer – wanting nothing more than to go backstage and celebrate briefly with their family and friends - Alec hesitates. He looks across at his partner, studies him with a slow smile. Magnus doesn't say much, his shoulders swaying happily as he dazzles for the press.

“Yeah, uh,” Alec says, after a few seconds goes by, “this isn’t my moment.”

He then nudges Magnus forwards with an elbow, letting him take the lead. He stays beside him, but lets Magnus answer the questions with charm and grace. 

Before the press get pushed back by security, Alec gets a warm glow in his chest as he watches Magnus command the stage. He’s eloquent, smart and thoughtful. He discusses the serious commitment of dance as a sport, and his encouragement for the rule change. He comments on traditionalist values and modern ones too, with equal respect. The press have a field day, and Alec tries not to snort at how eagerly they lap up Magnus’ words.

“Thus, I reiterate,” Magnus is saying, commanding the attention with a carefree swing in his step, “dancing requires hard-work and passion, and–“ he pauses, glancing back over his shoulder, where Alec is waiting. He grins, and winks once. “It also requires love,” Magnus finishes, turning back to the reporters. “I shall leave it there. Thank you.”

With a little wiggle of his fingers, Magnus spins around, sauntering away and approaching Alec with a very smug look. Alec returns in, snaking an arm around his waist as they turn and head for the backstage area together. Their bodies press close to each other, falling into an easy step as they head into the wings and–

–get bombarded with another round of cheers and embraces.

~

_We won._

_We actually won._

_Did Cat and Ragnor blackmail the audience into giving us ten points?_

Magnus decides that his friends wouldn't be so devilish, and accepts the shocking reality; that they won because of their talent, and determination. 

As they stumble up into the wings, Magnus feels like a kid again; winning his first contest.

Only this time, he's linking hands with the love of his life, pushing into the backstage room, where so many of their loved ones are waiting to greet them. He spots many familiar faces, letting tears spill from his eyes as they send up another round of cheers.

Magnus spots Clary and Simon standing near the front, alongside Cat and Ragnor – after all, they have the best access to the source. Magnus blinks away the tears, trying to enjoy the sheer bliss of the moment. His heart threatens to burst, the joy a feverish, beautiful feeling.

There are so many people crowded into the room, waiting to hug and congratulate him. There’s Maia, and Lily, standing waiting for their turn, and he spots a guy in a smart suit and slightly awkward smile.

“Raphael!” Magnus exclaims in surprise, waving him over. He hugs the guy, pulling back while keeping an arm on his shoulder. “A delight, as always.”

“Couldn’t miss this one. You’d never let me forget it.”

Trying not to collapse into an overwhelmed mess, Magnus concentrates on his friend. 

“Quite right too,” he teases, smiling as Raphael chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Guess you owe me that drink later tonight, hm?” Magnus points out.

“As promised,” Raphael agrees. He pats his arm again, starting to step back. “Congratulations, Magnus. A well-deserved win.”

“Thank you, friend. I–“

“Magnus, that was unbelievable!” a voice bursts out. An excitable Simon appears a few moments later, popping up and ignoring Raphael's surprised, little jump. “You guys were just, whoa!" Simon says with a huge smile. "Like, super awesome.”

“Thank you, Simon,” Magnus says, chuckling. He offers the boy a quick pat on the cheek. “This is Raphael, by the way–“

“Oh, right, right, hey,” Simon interrupts, rambling on at about ninety miles per hour again. He offers Raphael a hand, and then half pulls it back. “Um, hey,” he offers, “nice to meet you. Do you…Do you dance?”

“No,” Raphael says curtly, “I do not.” Still, Magnus swears that his expression is part-amusement.

“Oh, that’s cool. Cool. What do you do? I mean, you don’t have to answer. Obviously. I work behind the scenes. I’m a tech guy. I do tech.”

“Really?” Raphael asks, and when he arches an eyebrow, it’s more inquisitive than mocking.

Magnus blinks in surprise at the rare display of open curiosity from his reserved friend.

"I own a club,” Raphael says, again surprising Magnus with the attempt at carrying on the conversation.

“So you know a lot about tech stuff, I bet,” Simon says, rubbing his palms together. He’s still half-bouncing on the spot, his energy bubbling out.

A soft, quiet laugh pushes into the air. It takes a moment for Magnus to realise that it came from Raphael, who is now watching Simon with a bewildered but entertained look.

“Stick around. I’ll teach you something worthwhile.”

_Is he…Is Raphael flirting?_

Magnus feels oddly disturbed by this, like he’s seeing his son flirt. He ignores the protective urge to separate them, and instead makes a quick farewell, turning to greet the next person and leaves the newly introduced pair to their endeavours, whatever they may be.

He sees Alec laughing and accepting hugs from his brother and sister – even little Max is there, looking pleased as he beams up at his older brother. Maryse and Robert stand side by side, their smiles a little awkward but otherwise relatively warm.

Lily and Maia exchange quick hugs with Magnus, and he relishes in having a roomful of people who are openly supportive and pleased, and for the right reasons. It’s taken a great deal of work to get here, he knows this, but it really has been worth it all.

“I’ll see you soon,” he reminds Lily, “if you’re still in search of a partner?”

“You’re the only one I want,” she teases, her expression mock-grave. Isabelle breaks the moment, coming over to greet the girls. Magnus notices that she hugs Maia a little longer than anyone else, but once again, he turns away. There’ll be plenty of time for meddling later.

For now, it’s his own affairs that he wants to fade into.

There’s another minute or two left until they return to the floor, and eventually, they greet everyone who’s come to congratulate them. Which in itself, is the best problem to have; too much love.

Magnus waits by the curtain, peering out a little. Most people are returning to their seats, waiting to watch their exhibition dance.

This time, there’s no anticipation; only an eagerness to relax into the dance, to dance without pressure or fear of what’s coming afterwards.

Someone taps him on the shoulder. When he spins around, Magnus sees Simon wringing his hands together, anxiously avoiding his gaze.

“What it is?” Magnus asks. When the boy remains quiet, he narrows his eyes. “If you’re going to ask for Raphael’s number,” Magnus warns, his voice low, “you can do that yourself, yes? Courage, dear boy. Courage.”

Simon’s eyes widen. “What? No. No,” he repeats firmly, but his eyes betray him when he glances over his shoulder. He turns back, shaking his head to refocus. “It’s just…Uh, now that you won, um…I have a slight confession. Do you remember the qualifiers? The…the lights?”

It takes Magnus a long moment to work out what he means. He's referring to the rainbow spotlight that flickered on during their first waltz.

At least, Magnus _thinks_ that's what he means.

Simon nods when he asks.

"Okay,” Magnus says carefully. "And so...?"

_Where is this going?_

“It was, um, me. I leaned on the switch,” Simon mutters.

“That was _you_?” Magnus exclaims. He coughs, clearing his throat and regaining his calm. “Oh, my,” he eventually says. He muses on something else for a second or two. “Let’s not let the word get out about this, hm?” He doesn’t want Simon getting into trouble, or worse, getting an ego boost.

Simon nods fiercely. “Please.”

After a beat, the tension eases away, and the pair start to laugh.

Magnus can’t help but pull him in for a hug. “Bless your clumsy ass, dear boy,” he teases. And because he’s in the highest of spirits, and Simon’s awkward joy is so endearing, Magnus leans forwards and kisses him on the forehead.

Alec steps into view then, choosing the perfect time to appear. He narrows his eyes as he walks over, eyeing up Simon.

“Dare I ask?” he says dryly.

Magnus nods, praying that his expression is as grave as he hopes it is. “Yes, Alexander,” he solemnly begins, “your worries are real.” He loops an arm around Simon’s waist. “I’m leaving you for Simon.”

“He’s not!”

Letting out a yelp, Simon pushes Magnus away, holding out both hands. “He’s just kidding, Alec. I swear. We’re not-“

Alec cuts him off with a laugh, shaking his head. “Let him go before you give him a heart attack,” he jokes, waving Simon away with a hand. He’s clearly in too good of a mood to scold him. He just narrows his eyes at the poor guy until he gets the hint. Simon rushes off, giving a sheepish wave as he goes.

Finally alone, Magnus locks his arms around Alec’s neck, swaying slightly.

“Guess what he just confessed to?” he asks, tilting his head in the direction of where Simon stood. “And fret not,” Magnus slyly adds, “it’s not stealing my heart.”

“Ha. Uh…What? What did he do?”

When Magnus explains, he watches Alec’s eyes widen, and then narrow, and then he starts to laugh.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “Thank god that turned out alright. Does he _really_ want a career in tech?” Alec huffs out, shaking his head again. But his lips pull into a grin as soon as Magnus hums, pressing his lips into the corner of Alec’s mouth.

“Was that a good luck kiss?” Alec asks, voice suddenly strained. He swallows, and Magnus follows the movement of his throat.

“Yes. And no. It was simply because I can.”

“Mm. I see. Are you gonna do that a lot?”

“Depends. Will you make this a two-year winning streak?”

“I’ll do my best,” Alec assures him.

“Then, yes. I shall make this–“ Magnus presses a kiss to the opposite corner of Alec’s mouth, smiling when he feels Alec’s lips twitch upwards at the touch– “ a regular occurrence.”

They’re silent for a short while, and then a crackle overhead announces their return to the dance floor:

_“Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated and put your hands together for the Gold Champions, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood.”_

Someone wolf-whistles from behind them, and when they face the sea of happy faces, urging them back onto the floor, Magnus takes a moment to soak it all up; to remember this. To truly appreciate the sense of unity. A unity that he’s helped create.

He smiles, delighted to see an equally happy smile on his boyfriend’s face.

“Shall we?”

They take the stairs again, and stand face to face, waiting for their music to begin.

Magnus is so glad they actually prepared something. Yes, it's simple, and somewhat informal, but it's something Magnus has never had before. He never thought he’d be able to win, and win with someone as amazing as Alec. Someone he’s in love with, and will spend a lifetime finding new adventures to journey with.

He melts into the dance, the slow melody providing comfort. The waltz is tender and easy, but showcases their strengths. They take turns leading each other, spinning at the corners and occasionally slowing down to grin helplessly at each other.

When the music starts to fade, they end up face to face, bowing to each other this time, not the audience. Magnus then reaches out and rests his palm against Alec's chest, gazing up at his partner with every ounce of love, every bit of affection and love he’s wanting to give over. Now, and for all the days to come. 

The dance ends, but their story doesn't. Magnus can feel it unfolding, day by day. And this is just another one.

They face the audience one last time, together; kings of the floor, and for a moment, of the entire world. They’re golden and untouchable under the amber-gold lights.

The press click away and the audience clap away, but all Magnus hears is his heartbeat; all he feels is Alec’s hand in his, lifting them up for all to see.

Flashing him a devout smile, Magnus holds his gaze.

He couldn't wait to dance with - and love - Alec for the rest of their lives.

* * *

**‘Game-changer victory granted to dark horse contestants!’**

_(Written by: Catarina Loss. Co-writer: Ragnor Fell)_

**Here are some of the highlights of our interview with the winners of the International Ballroom Championships of 2017:**

**Loss:** Three words to describe your partner?

**Bane:** An angel.

**Fell:** That’s two.

**Bane:** I’m glad you can count.

**Loss:** And you?

**Lightwood:** Uh. Talented. Passionate. And…

**Loss:**  (We think he said ‘mine’, but let the record state this is _merely_ a guess. Completely unsure.)

**Fell:**  (It’s a mystery indeed.)

**Loss:** Congratulations on fighting for a good cause. What’s next for the both of you?

**Bane:** Hm. Shall we leave them with a little mystery, Alexander?

_(Here, the pair exchange a long look, and it’s clear that while the future is always unsure, and professionals rise and fall, these two are going to leave behind an incredible legacy.)_

**Lightwood:** Well, uh, no one’s ever won three consecutive years. Guess we could start there?

**Bane:** _(lights up at this suggestion)_ I knew I loved you for more than your legs.

**Fell:** Is that off-record?

_(Bane and Lightwood exchange another look.)_

_(Lightwood shakes his head, smiling.)_

**Bane:** Oh, no. Let this be very on record: partner someone you love, and you’ll be unstoppable. But you can’t have this one. This one here is mine. My apologies.

**Lightwood** : You’re not that sorry.

**Bane:** Not at all.

**Lightwood:** Good. Uh, because I agree. Yeah.

**Fell:** How does it feel to be such an icon for the future generation of dancers?

**Lightwood:** Uh, intense. It’s an honour, though. And we want dancers to know that they should be dancing because they love it. And with whoever the hell they want.

**Bane:** Well said, dear. We'll...work on the eloquence. 

**Loss:** Ah, yes, and can you confirm your relationship off-stage? Now that the contest is over?

_(At this, the pair exchanged a look that didn’t disagree. Bane performed a hand gesture that we cannot repeat, and Lightwood’s smirk was unmistakably smug. We'll leave readers to interpret this however they chose to.)_

_When Alec Lightwood simply said, “We’re seeing what happens,” it’s clear that the new star couple aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. They've become the first same-sex couple to win, making history right here in the Greenlake Tower Ballroom. The pair execute their interviews with strong support for each other, always. It's c_ _ertainly not hard to see why they were awarded the highest marks this year._

_The competition may have ended, but these two have only just begun._

_Sometimes the end is, in fact, a beginning.’_

* * *

  _(Fin)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh, and so we reach the end! I really hope you enjoyed the last chapter! :)  
> Because I'm helpless, I will probably be writing a follow-up, likely a oneshot taking place afterwards, but I can't promise anything soon.  
> Let me know your favourite parts in the comments, getting your flails and lovely messages means the world to me <3  
> In the meantime, come find me on:  
> Twitter - @clockworkswan96  
> Or tumblr - clockworkswans  
> Once again, the visuals/inspirations for this chapter are below:  
> 1) Quickstep style: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdfH9sMPlgA  
> 2) Some of the demonstrations for the Viennese waltz steps here: http://www.libraryofdance.org/dances/waltz/  
> 3) Their free dance suits: https://68.media.tumblr.com/cf798b7f7bcbe71c6da8865b4a27cc8a/tumblr_inline_or8nnaxaG31rdwtt0_540.jpg  
> Free dance choreography inspirations:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DrgHLLETns  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yv2SuShIUYc  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rpd9LqD2BHs  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyOF8VfXG1U  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> Be honest, you smiled at least once during the meet-cute!!  
> I hope you did. I will sob into my pillow dramatically otherwise.  
> This fic is going to be shameless fluff, self-indulgent dance nostalgia, and romantic moments. I hope you enjoy the rest of it, and come find me on twitter @clockworkswan96, or tumblr, 'clockworkswans' if you have questions :)  
> Oh, and the breakdown for the rest of the story is: chapter 2 - training + qualifier (quarter final), chapter 3 - semi-final, and chapter 4 - finals.  
> See you soon!  
> if you want visuals for the samba, it's here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CABJfSW6MXE


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